


Sound

by notjustmom



Series: Words, Words, Words [216]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Blow Jobs, Going Home, Hats, Idiots in Love, M/M, Major Character Injury, Molly/Sherlock back story, More angst, Stag Night, Sweet Sally, bucket lists, extra fluffy bits, follows Chapter 14 of Still, gay bar scene, possible movie quotes, the boys go to Paris, the next morning, wedding ceremony
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-24
Updated: 2016-06-15
Packaged: 2018-06-10 13:01:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 25,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6957508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>sound: adjective: sound: in good condition; not damaged, injured, or diseased</p><p>Middle English: from Old English gesund ; related to Dutch gezond and German gesund</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sound

**Author's Note:**

> Yes...starting with the angst again...these boys...
> 
> Note the bump up in rating beginning in Chapter 4.

After eight days Sherlock was declared sound enough to go home. They both thanked the doctors and smiled at them as they departed, charts in hand, doctors in training surrounding them, a success story they were. "Famous detective who returned from dead makes full recovery...devoted husband/doctor never left his side..."

As the door shut, Sherlock blew out the breath he had been holding and leaned back into the pillows. He had been up and walking on his own for the last two days, he could shower on his own, but preferred John to join him. He had lost a bit of weight, even with the treats that Molly and Greg had been able to smuggle in, and the nightmares were still coming in droves. He had hidden that fact from John until that morning, he couldn't hide it any longer because John ended up crashing to the floor as Sherlock thrashed in order to get away from his captors.

"John?"

"Sherlock? Are you all right?"

"Oh, shit, John - I'm sorry, I -"

"They are back...never stopped, did they? Did they?"

"I didn't, damn it, I didn't want you to worry."

John pinched his nose, and sat on the bed facing Sherlock. "I know this is hard for you to understand, I know it is, love, but, no matter what, I am not leaving you, I want to be able to help you. I can't help if you hide from me. I can see it in your face that you are still fighting things, I don't want to be one of those things. I am your partner, in all things, for good, for ill. If you want to scream at someone about what is hurting you, scream at me, yell at me. I can take it."

"That's just it, John. I don't want for you to have to take it. This is not yours to carry, I did things, John, I saw...so much of the worst of what people are capable of. I was one of those people who...who...I had never taken a life before, John. And now? Now- before I came home I saw a report that listed me as the deadliest agent in the field in those two years. See? I can already tell, your eyes, your face, you are instinctively pulling back from me. I am not the same person who you fell in love with, I can't even look at myself in the mirror without seeing their faces, John. I didn't go to war like you, I became a one-man killing machine. I had no time to make peace with myself about any of it. There were days when I...no. I can't, John. There are parts of me that you don't want to know."

"Did you think I didn't know, love? Do you think I can't see someone who went to war and only part of them came back home? Do you think I don't know the times when you aren't here anymore? You survived, and you came back, even though you didn't know what you were returning to, whether I had forgotten you and moved on, or if I would take you back without question. I. love. you. I love the man sitting in front of me, as you are, broken or whole or someplace in between. I just want to be able to be with you when you are in pain, sit with you, hold you. It is not out of pity or out of obligation. It is part of loving you, respecting you and cherishing you. Now, we have to pack and get you, us, back to Baker Street, back home where you belong, where we belong."

"Home?"

"Yes, love."

"Home, together."

"Yes, love, always."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Almost home.

I picked them up, shall I help you get him home, or meet you at the flat? - MH

If you could bring them here, and help get him settled, that would make it easier, ta - JW

More nightmares? - MH

Yeah - JW

 

They showered, and John helped Sherlock get dressed, though he could do it himself, John was more efficient and Sherlock was already fading.

"Sherlock," Molly all but bounced into the room. It was impossible for him to remain in a funk as she kissed his cheeks and grinned at him. "I have a surprise for you!"

"Molls...you know I loathe surprises...always have - oh...Molly..." She opened the huge shopping bag and pulled out a bright blue scarf, and a Belstaff, John had texted Molly earlier in the day and asked her to stop by Sherlock's tailor to pick up the replacements he had requested last week. Sherlock brought the scarf to his face and breathed it in.

"Can I help, sweetie?" Molly whispered. She looked at his face and shot John a worried look. John shrugged.

"Hmmm? Oh, yes. Yes, please, Molls." He stood up and she helped him into the long coat, then tied the scarf around his neck. 

"Is that a new love nibble I see? Hmmm???"

Sherlock laughed in spite of himself. He knew he should be happy to be going home, but he knew very little would change there. He was afraid John would hover, but also terrified that no matter what John said to his face, eventually, John would -

"Sorry?"

"Coffee, love." Molly placed a cup into his hands. "John went to sign you out and to get the wheelchair. Where are you, sweetie?"

"It's nothing."

"Nuh-uh. Spill it."

Sherlock looked at Molly's face and sighed; he could never win when she gave him that look that said, "spill or I tell John about that time you..."

"When we get home, it will just be us, and, I'm not sure, how to be..."

"Normal?"

Sherlock nodded.

"You are still recovering, and you need to rest. Let him be there for you, give him permission to take care of you. He's so grateful that you are here; I've watched him when you are sleeping. Most of the time he doesn't sleep, he just holds your hand, or plays with your hair, he can't believe he has another second chance with you. Give him a chance, sweetie, give yourself time. He loves you so much, and I know you still wonder why, after all this time. Don't you?"

Sherlock whispered, "I can barely tolerate myself, how can he...how can you..?"

"Because we know you, you idiot." She grabbed his hand and gave it a squeeze."Your chariot has arrived. Nope, you are going to sit in it and behave. Yes?"

"Yes, Mummmm..."

John grinned at them and watched as Sherlock mustered as much fake bad grace as he could and settled into the chair.

"Home, John!"

 

For once, John was grateful for the ubiquitous black sedan that waited for them outside St. Bart's; Mycroft had promised he would give them time to adjust to being back home before he 'invaded,' though, in truth, Sherlock didn't mind his brother's presence as he once had. John wondered why, perhaps because Mycroft actually knew what had happened, knew what Sherlock had done and been through and still seemed to care for him. He threw the bags in the trunk as Molly watched Sherlock slide into the car then follow after him. He returned the wheelchair and bit his lip...Mycroft has records, if I asked...no. NO. Sherlock would never forgive either of them...

"John?" Molly popped her head out the window. "Joining us sometime today?"

"Oh, sorry..."

"I know, just thinking. Come on, let's get you boys home, it's time."

 

Sherlock closed his eyes and leaned against John's shoulder, while Molly held his hand and chatted on about the huge meal Mrs. Hudson was cooking for them. "Sherlock, she even made you a dozen mince pies even though it's September, she didn't even dust while you were -"

They all looked out the window as the car came to a stop outside 221B. None of them seemed capable of movement for a hiccough of time. "away. Come on, boys, you are home."

John opened the door and the trunk opened; Sherlock slid out of the car gingerly, waving John's offered hand away. Molly stood in front of him and gave him her arm. "Let him be there for you," she whispered at him. John grabbed the bags, opened the door and headed upstairs.

"You can do this, Sherlock. I'm going back to work. I'll stop by tomorrow, but you need space to settle in, just the two of you. You love him, and he loves you, it will work itself out." He bent down and she kissed his head. "You will be fine, sweetie." She got back into the car and he watched it until it disappeared into London traffic. He stared at the door, touched the knocker, pushing it slightly off center and walked inside.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Home.

He closed the door, and leaned against it. John was banging around upstairs, likely making tea or fluffing pillows; Mrs. Hudson's telly was on full blast. Wishful thinking on her part, he considered. Then he took a deep breath in, and would have fallen over if he hadn't been held up by the door. He hadn't been this affected when he came home three years earlier, but then he had been little more or less than mostly dead. When did he start thinking in movie quotes? He tried to move, get upstairs but a memory took over:

"Lean on me, love. I'm here."

John would've carried him upstairs that day if he had let him. But he insisted on walking up the seventeen steps. He hadn't had the time or energy to catalogue each scent that was currently overwhelming him. The lemon polish, the slight fragrance of Mrs. Hudson's 'soothers', John's soap, that clean nonscent that mixed with tea and the disinfectant he used at work...

Today was different, the aroma of mince pies floated from Mrs. Hudson's flat, the nutmeg and allspice...he sat down before he fell down.

"Sherlock? Love?" Mrs. Hudson was sitting next to him on the floor. "Everything all right? Why don't you come in for a cuppa and let John get settled up there, hmm? The pies are just the way you like them, still a bit warm. C'mon, up you get." Sherlock had forgotten how strong she was, probably in better shape than he was on his good days, save for the hip; she had been one of the better bare-knuckle boxers of her day, and she still did Zumba twice a week with Mrs. Turner. He got his feet under him, and was led to her kitchen table.

"You look like hell, love." She placed his mug in front of him, with a plate of mince pies. He lifted the plate to his nose and took it in; home. He was home.

"That good, huh?" He picked up a pie and took a bite. He closed his eyes and managed a sardonic smirk for her benefit.

"You need feeding up and you need to rest."

"I've been 'resting' for almost ten days." He put the pie down and picked up his tea, strong, but with enough sugar to kill most average humans.

"No, you've been in hospital for eight days. No one 'rests' in hospital. You let John take care of you, and you take care of him, you hear me? Now, finish your tea and those pies and you get yourself upstairs. That boy loves you, thinks you hung the moon. Molly and Greg will be here for supper later, so get a nap, hmm?"

Sherlock nodded. You didn't argue with Mrs. Hudson and live to tell the tale later. "Yes, Mum."

"Don't be smart, young man." She kissed him on the cheek and whispered, "I am right glad to see you, love." He offered her a smile that almost made it to his eyes, finished his tea, and polished off the pies, then pushed away from the table. He gave her a hug and made his way upstairs.

He hung up his scarf and coat, and was about to bend over to tie his shoes when John appeared at his feet.

"Let me?" Without waiting for permission, he untied Sherlock's black leather shoes and slipped them from his feet, then lined them up next to his own more sensible loafers.

Sherlock saw the look in John's eyes. That look that meant everything to him. "I'm so sorry, John," he whispered.

"What for, love?"

"I know there's something, anything, everything - I'm just so tired. Can you take me to bed, please?"

"Thought you'd never ask."


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a quiet bedroom scene, as Sherlock finally tells John of his time away...

Without another word, John led Sherlock to their room, and sat him on the edge of the bed. He held Sherlock's face in both hands, searching his eyes until he found an answer, an affirmation, of some kind. He nodded, and slowly undressed him.

"Do you want another shower, or do you just want to go to sleep?"

Sherlock shook his head. "I need you to get me out of my head and back here with you," he whispered. "Please, John?"

John pulled his jumper over his head and took his time removing his jeans, noting the change in his husband's breathing as he saw his arousal. 

"I want to see you, John, please?"

John took off his vest and lastly his pants, then closed his eyes. He felt more than heard Sherlock's movement towards him; then lanky arms draped around his waist as Sherlock pulled John against him.

"Fu-God, Sherlock, I've missed you so much, love."

"Take me to bed, John."

John opened his eyes to see Sherlock looking down at him; the old light was shining in Sherlock's eyes, the light that existed for him and him alone. He smiled back at him, then swept him into his arms, and carefully laid him in bed, as if he were precious.

"You are, love, the most precious person in my life. You always will be."

John got in bed, then straddled Sherlock's thighs, and slowly lowered himself until he covered Sherlock's body with his own. He felt Sherlock's heart begin to race beneath him, and then he felt the detective begin to tremble, as tears flowed easily for once.

"I have you, Sherlock, I am here, I'm not letting you go."

Sherlock's arms wrapped around him, and held on tightly. Together, they moved against each other, slowly, deliberately, as Sherlock moaned John's name. John sped up his movements until he felt his husband shudder under him, releasing the stress and pain from the last few days, then John followed him.

They laid in silence, both afraid to speak. Then Sherlock began, a monologue that seemed to unravel from him, unwillingly at first, then he could not seem to stop the flow, the words just fell from wherever he had kept them locked away.

"I would arrive in each city in darkness, 'achieve my mission' then board a plane, or a train, the occasional truck, and once the trunk of a '67 Chevy; then depart again in darkness. I lost track of time and place; there were safe houses, where I could sleep and eat, but I soon learned to trust no one, even those supposedly on 'our side'; sides can be switched, allegiances purchased..."

Sherlock spoke until he was incapable of speech and sleep overtook him. John got up from the bed, ran a flannel under warm water, then returned to the bedroom, and gently cleaned his husband, then himself. He climbed back into bed, and watched Sherlock's chest rise and fall until he too finally gave into his exhaustion; his head resting on Sherlock's shoulder, his hand encircling his wrist.

As the day's light faded, John's phone buzzed lightly on the table.

 

"How are you two doing?" - MH

"Better than expected, surprisingly." - JW

"We'll be over soon, if you guys are ready to be social?" - MH

 

John looked up at Sherlock who was grinning down at him.

 

"Yes, just give us time to uhm..." - JW

" 'Nuff said." - MH

 

Molly laughed as she turned off her phone.

"What? Are they okay?"

"More than, I'd guess..."

 

Sherlock flipped John on his back and took his time naming the bones he could reach and remember, leaving John a begging, giggling mess. Then he paused, his eyes suddenly serious, and he whispered, "tell me, John, what do you want?" 

"Besides three helpings of Mrs. Hudson's Roast Beast?"

Sherlock nodded.

"Your lips..."

Sherlock kissed John's leaking cock, then offered him a wicked grin and an even more devilish mouth as he took him in one ridiculous move. John bellowed as he came hard down Sherlock's throat, and shivered as he felt Sherlock swallow. 

"As you wish..." Sherlock snorted as he kissed John soundly.

"Shower before we head downstairs."

"Definitely, I do believe we would save water if -"

"-we shared?"

"Hmmm..."

 

An hour later, Molly grinned as she saw the twinkle back in Sherlock's eyes, John's hand firmly held in his as they sat on the couch, in Sherlock's other hand was his fifth...no, sixth mince pie of the day.

"I think - " John began, but his thought was stopped short by a light brushing of Sherlock's lips against his.

"Unfair."

"You did say I needed 'feeding up...' "

John rolled his eyes, knowing he was fighting a losing battle, but bickered good-naturedly, anyway, because it was what they did.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a bit of a half and half chapter, half fluff half angst...

Of course, it wasn't quite that simple.

A week had passed since they returned to Baker Street. There were moments when Sherlock would look across at John in surprise, and John would wonder if he had lost track of where and when he was. John would reach out for him, grounding him and Sherlock would blink and shrug his shoulders then go back to whatever it was he had been doing.

The occasional uncomfortable silence would hit; some mornings began in darkness when John bolted from the bed because of a nightmare, and only Sherlock's calm, quiet voice could bring him out of that in between space. After the second day, apologising was outlawed:

"No."

"What?"

"John, you may not ask my forgiveness, for anything. You don't need it, there is nothing to forgive."

John looked up at him, and took a deep breath. "Then you have to stop begging my pardon every time I have a nightmare."

"John, it's not even close to being the same thing. I -"

"Nope."

"But - "

John shook his head, then picked himself up out of Sherlock's lap. "Tea? I need some -"

"John -"

"It's not up for discussion. You have immunity, from today onward, in this flat. If you need to apologise out in the world for -"

"-being myself?" Sherlock smirked at him, before slowly rising to his feet and taking John into his arms.

"- then yes, you may abjectly beg for absolution from the injured party, but you owe me nothing but your love and that thing you do...."

"You mean this?"

"Hmmmhmmm...."

 

But no matter what had happened during the day, every night, John would rise from his chair, find Sherlock and without a word, Sherlock would stop what he was doing, take John's hand and follow him to bed. Some nights they made love, other times, they simply held on to each other and breathed the same air. They always slept together, Sherlock usually against John's chest, while John inevitably fell asleep with his fingers wrapped gently around his husband's wrist. Proof that they were both still there.

 

The morning Mycroft made his appearance was an off day, for both of them. Sherlock was antsy for a case, Lestrade wanted to hold off for another couple of weeks, to give him more time to recuperate. John understood the moodiness, even he was feeling trapped, and twitchy.

"Myc? Of all the days -" John began, but shrugged as he pulled his robe around himself and went to make tea.

"My brother?"

"Still sleeping, rough night, it wasn't Serbia this time, something else...I think it was about something he did..."

"There are accounts -"

"NO. No." John blinked at him, then sighed as he carried the tray in. "If I'm being honest, I had considered asking to see what you had, so I could try to understand..."

"But...?" Mycroft's officious voice made John's fist twitch, but he let it go.

"But, I can't. Since we've been home, he's shared so much more than I ever thought he would. There are nights when he will talk for hours, as if a bottle has been uncorked, do you know what I mean?" Mycroft nodded. "If he's ever going to come back from this, he has to know he can trust me, that he has control over what I learn from that time. But, uhm, thank you for offering, I do appreciate the intention." He poured tea out for both of them and they regarded one another.

"Very well." They sat in silence drinking tea for a few moments before they heard a crash and a whimper from the bedroom.

"Not a good day - I'll have my people get in touch with your people?"

Mycroft nodded, then gathered his umbrella and seemed to vanish.

John went into their bedroom and shut the door.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> extra extra fluffy...promise

"Love?" John laid on the floor near Sherlock, who was flat on his back, under the bed. "Tell me where you are?"

"Berlin - John would like this place, bright and happy, a match is on the telly, but I'm not sure if he knows enough German -"

"They play football the same way, even if it's in another language, love. Same rules."

"I'm supposed to meet someone - a girl, sorry, woman, she looks like the Woman, no, I mean she carries herself in that way, maybe it's the shoes or the lipstick - "

"Blood - "

"Hmmm?"

"That was the shade she wore - "

"John?"

"Yeah, love - "

"I'm home. I'm under our bed. Again."

"Tell me what I can do."

"I want to just stay here for a bit."

"Okay."

"Tell me about the day of our wedding?"

"It was - "

"Cold. Freezing cold, but you were so warm. The heater was broken -"

"You remember?"

"Course I do, best fuckin' day of my life." Sherlock was shivering, John could hear it in his voice.

"Mine, too."

"Tell me, please, John?" Sherlock reached out his hand and his highly-polished, well-kept ring glittered in the gray light.

John covered Sherlock's cold hand with his own and closed his eyes.

"Somehow, I managed to keep it a surprise. I think, by sheer coincidence...yeah, yeah, I know, you don't believe in coincidences -"

"The universe is rarely so lazy." Sherlock began inching his way out from under the bed.

"Yes, love. Greg had you jumping. Who knows, maybe the cold weather brought out the criminally - "

"-stupid or perhaps they were just freezing and wanted a place to stay. They were all twos or threes, the occasional four, they acted as if they wanted to get caught - and you were always 'working a double,' I should've been jealous, or suspicious, except, when you were home - there were nights, John -"

"I know, me too, love." 

Sherlock slid out from under the bed and nodded at John to continue.

"Anyway, I had the license, the rings, the registrar all set up, but Greg's testimony got moved to that day, I hadn't even had time to ask him to be our witness...Mycroft arranged everything with the tailor, he had our sizes sent over, with suggestions for colours and material. Angelo was over the moon, and Mrs. Hudson made us a lovely sponge. I got up, got dressed, and left you your suit and a note of where to meet me and when. I was almost afraid that you wouldn't show when you figured out what I had done. But, you did. You showed up."

"Yes, John." Sherlock touched John's bottom lip with a calloused finger. "I did."

John kissed his finger, and sighed. "I had to drag poor Molly away from a case, luckily Mike was there and saw me; he offered to 'keep an eye on the stiffs,' while Molly was gone. When we got there, I could barely breathe. I've never seen you more...just...fucking gorgeous. Mycroft had come through, the cut of your morning coat, that purp - I know 'aubergine...' waistcoat, and your eyes that day. Mycroft almost smiled, I think."

"Nuh-uh. Gas. He was definitely bloated that day."

"Berk." John gazed into Sherlock's exhausted but beautiful eyes. "What did I tell you that day?" He brought Sherlock's hand to his mouth and kissed the ring that never left Sherlock's finger.

Sherlock gazed back, his glowing eyes made John's breath quicken. "You told me...you stood there, and took my hands in yours...and you...you...said - "

" 'I am yours, Sherlock, and I think I always have been. I know it's slightly fanciful, but, I believe through history, we have always known each other, and loved one another. And I promise you, before these witnesses, that I will always be by your side. For better. For worse, and believe me, I know worse - ' "

"Yes, you said that, Molly laughed out loud. Mycroft rolled his eyes..."

"I swore I would love you through anything, and every thing."

"You have, John. Through every fucking thing, even through death - "

" - and back, again. Forever. And you looked into my eyes. I had sworn to myself I wouldn't cry, no matter what you said. But you grinned at me, and you, you, arse, said - "

" 'Ditto.' "

"You said 'ditto,' and I lost it."

"I kissed your tears away and Mycroft cleared his throat."

" 'All very, ehhem, 'romantic', but some of us have a meeting with a leader of the not-so-free world.' So we finished up, we snogged like teenagers, then we took Molly to Angelo's for a brilliant early lunch and took a bottle of his best champagne back to the flat."

"Whereupon, you and my very best friend got I believe, the term is 'drunker than skunks,' which I've never understood."

"What? Why people get drunk?"

"No - how skunks get drunk and how one would know if one was drunker than one."

Sherlock grinned, and John laughed, for the first time since they'd been home.

"Forever, Sherlock."

"Always, John."


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and Molly...origin story of who cuts Sherlock's hair

Hey - SH

Hey, yerself - MH

I made John go to work today. - SH

That's - good, right? - MH

It's good for him, he needs a distraction. - SH

From what? - MH

Me, I've been home two weeks - he's barely gone for a walk by himself, and that's just to go to the shops - SH

You need a distraction. - MH

Yes. - SH

My wedding. - MH

Yes? - SH

I need a wedding consultant - can I come over at lunchtime and talk it over with you? - MH

That's perfect! Colours, serviettes, cake...chapel or registry office...no...a garden...yes... - SH

Slow down, Cowboy, pace yourself, I'll be there in a couple of hours - MH

Love you, Molls - SH

Love you, eat something, will ya? - MH

:P - SH

:P to you too ;) How 'bout I trim those curls for you too? - MH

Please? - SH

You got it - MH

 

As he showered and washed his hair, he remembered the first time Molly had given him a trim. They were seven years old, and they had both had terrible, horrible, no good very bad days.

"What am I gonna do, Molls?" They were at his house, having a snack. His mum was writing a lecture for her history class, and was 'NOT to be disturbed.'

Molly was holding an ice pack to her jaw, the boy who had hit her first looked worse than she did. "Scissors. We need a scissors and a comb, gotta get yer hair wet first. Come on." They deserted the snack neither wanted to eat, and went to the loo, where they got his hair wet, and grabbed a towel, a comb and the sharpest scissors they could find, then headed to the back yard.

"You done this before?" Sherlock asked, suddenly a little wary.

"I've cut my brothers' hair, though they all have straight hair...it's just hair, right? I'm just gonna even it out a bit...how did they even do this to you?"

"We were playing outside and I had bent over to tie my shoe and - "

"Damn it. Whoa - no, Sherlock, I'm not mad at you. This is not your fault. They are arseholes whose parents have money but not any sense. I'm sorry I was too late. Oh, your beautiful curls. I'm so sorry, I shoulda hit him harder, shoulda given him two black eyes, make him look like a raccoon. There, it's short, but it's better, not so lopsided. Even got half a smile out of you...

"No one will notice anyway - thanks, Molls. Let's get more ice on your cheek, it looks like it hurts."

"My brothers hit harder, nothin' I can't handle."

 

"Sherlock?"

"Yeah, in here. Be out in a minute."

" 'Kay. Did you eat anything yet? I'll share my sandwich."

"I'm fine, Molls, had some toast."

"Hey, whoa. What are you thinking about?"

"Just remembering the first time you trimmed my hair."

"Oh. That was over thirty years ago. I can't believe you remember."

"You do too, don't you?"

"Yeah, course I do. You made your dad walk me home and he spoke to my brothers; they never touched me again. I never really thanked you for that. Hmm. I got a bag of crisps too, you will eat those. Your eyes look good today, are you sleeping better since you've been home?"

"Sometimes."

"Are you telling him about when you were away?"

"Yeah, some nights I must talk for hours, I don't even remember doing it, but I sleep hard, then wake up and feel lighter, and John smiles at me and hugs me, then we go back to sleep. It's helping a bit...but-"

"But...?

"Now John is having nightmares again -"

"Sweetie, he's taking it all in, it will be some time before he can accept what was done to you - "

"Wedding."

"Wedding. Let me get my kit, and you get your laptop so you can start a spreadsheet for everything - "

"Yellow. Garden, no church, wildflowers, tents...swan serviettes.'

"Cake?"

"Has to be white with yellow and purple flowers, and doodahs, chocolate cake, white icing."

"Dress?"

"Yellow, of course. something elegant, but bright, shimmery, like you."

Molly started combing out his curls and he stopped thinking. 

After a silent hour of combing, trimming and fussing, Molly handed Sherlock a mirror. He blinked at his reflection, then up at her. "Am I really as old as all that, Molly?"

"Yes, sweetie, we aren't kids anymore, we survived."

"You are the only reason I did, Molls."

"Ditto."

Molly grinned at him, then Sherlock snorted and fell out of his chair. When John got home five minutes later, they were still laughing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and of course, 'Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very bad..."  
> https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alexander_and_the_Terrible,_Horrible,_No_Good,_Very_Bad_Day
> 
> one of my favourite kids' books ever


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a confession

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lullaby, by W.H. Auden, read by Tom O'Bedlam
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VcG6JjrnPEo

"John?" Sherlock yawned and stretched, then turned, and found only an empty space next to him. He sighed, rolled out of bed and walked into into the kitchen.

"Oh, sorry, love. I, uhm, was hungry?" 

"Liar." Sherlock smirked at him, then carefully enfolded himself around his husband. He rested his chin on his shoulder and waited.

"I understand, now. No, I know I don't, not really, but I know why you were afraid to go to sleep, love. Even when I'm awake there are times...I - want to be able to fix this so much for you. I know I can't, but...do you know what I mean?"

Sherlock nodded. "When you first moved in here, I could hear you, fighting in your dreams, sometimes you would yell, call out names of people I didn't know. I saw you in the morning, and I wanted, wanted so much just to reach out for you and take it all away, and I didn't understand, because I had never wanted to carry someone else's pain for them before. Eventually, I would sit next to your bed and read you some poetry, when I heard the beginnings of the nightmare, or when I knew you had had a bad day." 

John turned in Sherlock's arms and looked into his eyes. "You did, I would wake up with some Shakespeare in my head that I knew I hadn't read before; or some Auden, Neruda and then Cummings, you hit on him, and... eventually, most of the images became words, in your voice. How did I not know?"

Sherlock shook his head. "I watched you heal yourself; at first I was arrogant enough to believe I cured your limp and the tremor. Now, I know it wasn't me at all, it just took time and your own innate strength, I just gave you the space to work it out."

"Come to bed and read to me?" John whispered and held Sherlock's face in his hands, and stroked the sharp jawline that he knew and loved so well. Sherlock nodded then kissed him, barely a brush of lips against lips. They pulled away and sighed together. Sherlock took John's hand and walked him back to bed, undressed him and began to undress himself. John stilled his hand, as he was undoing his bottoms. "Let me?" Sherlock nodded, and let go. John lifted one leg, then the other and slipped the pajamas from his body.

They got in bed, and situated themselves so that John rested his head on Sherlock's chest. Sherlock turned off the light, wrapped his arm around John and began to speak.

Lullaby 

W.H. Auden

"Lay your sleeping head, my love,  
Human on my faithless arm;  
Time and fevers burn away  
Individual beauty from  
Thoughtful children, and the grave  
Proves the child ephemeral:  
But in my arms till break of day  
Let the living creature lie,  
Mortal, guilty, but to me  
The entirely beautiful..."

John fell asleep to the sound of his husband's voice vibrating through him, the voice that had saved him, the voice that coerced him into believing he was worth saving all those years ago.


	9. Chapter 9

Ready for a case? - GL

Gotta be at least a seven - SH

Since when did you get so picky? - GL

Swans are trickier than they look - SH

Do I wanna know? - GL

Serviettes - SH

Ah. - GL

Napkins, origami - wedding? - SH

Oh, yeah, right. It's maybe a five, five and a half? - GL

Location? - SH

 

"John! Case! Get up! Awwww c'mon, John."

"Alrighhhhhht! Keep yer knickers on...actually...don't -"

"When we get back?" Sherlock kissed him and pulled him out of bed and into the shower.

John laughed and turned the water on. Then he felt Sherlock's strong arms hold him tight, his lips against that spot behind his ear, and a shiver shot through him. It had been a month since Sherlock had been home. 

"I love - "

"It will be fine. You'll be there with me."

"I was there last time - "

"I'll be careful."

"No. No, you won't."

"I'll try?"

John sighed and didn't speak. Sherlock began to wash his hair, his long fingers made him forget what they were talking about.

"I will be more careful, love. I'm a bit scared, if you want to know the honest truth. I never was before, but I need to try, and I need you to be by my side, believing that I can still do it, because I don't know if I can."

John blinked. "Of course you can." He spun to look up at his husband. He saw the uncertainty in his eyes and shook his head. "You are Sherlock Holmes, love," he whispered. "You can do anything." He wrapped his arms around the shivering man who leaned against him. "You can do anything, my amazing, beautiful man. Do you hear me? You can do anything." He held on to him until they began breathing in unison, lips found lips, fingers roamed, as if discovering those landmarks, touching for the first time, places that were known and loved became new, slowly, they moved into one another until they shuddered together.

"Oh." Sherlock kissed the top of John's head, then washed him carefully, and held him until the water began to run cold. "I do love you." 

 

It turned out to be a 'brilliant' seven. John watched Sherlock spin around the scene, seemingly unaware of all of the pairs of eyes upon him, wondering if he were the same as before; without skipping a beat, he glanced up to wink at John, as the solution flowed from him. Lestrade shook his head, even Donovan had to grin a bit and nod in his direction, in grudging respect.

 

The door to the flat closed, locks were locked, clothes were shed; they fell into bed, and John laughed. "You were amazing. Brilliant. Astonishing...ohhhh...breathtaking... you absolutely sparkled, love."

"Only for you, John...because of you. Look at me? You are my reason, my heart, my laughter. No. You are. And now..."

"Ohhhhhhhhh." Sherlock grinned as he watched John fall to pieces beneath his hands, his eyes were glittering in joy when John was finally able to open his own again.

"I think you broke me, " John whispered.

"Give me some time and I'll put you back together, love."

They fell asleep, tangled together - they slept until the morning light broke through the curtains, and Sherlock's stomach growled.

They laughed until they fell off the bed.

They laughed harder when they heard Mrs. Hudson bang her broom on her ceiling below them.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greg gets cold feet...John talks him out of it.

Got time fer a pint? - GL

Let me check - JW

 

"Love, Greg wants to meet up tonight, you and Molly are doing 'wedding stuff,' right?"

"Uh-hmm, sure, go ahead."

 

Sounds good, regular place, 8ish? - JW

Yeah, ta. - GL

 

John slid across from Greg at five after eight, who was well into his first pint, and sat back to look at his friend. 

"Nope. Don't Sherlock at me. Order a pint and just listen, yeah?"

John nodded and signaled the bartender for a couple more pints. 

"I'm worried I've made a mistake."

"Molly?"

"No. Not Molly. The whole wedding....marriage thing. I've been married before, it was an unmitigated fucking disaster." He breathed into his pint and drained it.

"Why?"

"Why? Because we were young, I was never home, we didn't have kids...point is, why am I messing this up with -"

"No. Uh-uh. She deserves her day, Greg. This isn't about you. Sherlock is gonna walk her down that aisle to you in a fucking garden in July, even if it's 37 degrees and you are dying in the heat. She knows what your life is, she knows the risks, she loves you and she wants to toss the goddamn bouquet and have her first dance and -"

"All right, all RIGHT- yer right, I'm an arse." He ran his hand through his hair and sighed. "But - I'm afraid things will change, they are so good right now...I just don't want to fuck this up, John." He took a swallow of his fresh pint and shook his head.

"She won't let you. It won't be just you in the marriage, yeah?"

Greg nodded and resigned himself to the lecture that was coming.

"I've seen her recently; she is glowing, absolutely on cloud - fucking - nine. She has waited so long for this, Greg. You should hear the two of them, planning each and every detail, the dress, her hair...and you know how much she usually cares about her hair - the swans...I swear, I find them everywhere, found one in the fridge this morning where the milk should've been - Sherlock needs this for her, as much as she does. He is trusting you with the most precious person in the world to him, she's basically his sister, but more. You know that. Life will be different after. For us, it just made Sherlock believe in me more, in us; for me? I finally understood how much I loved him. There are days when it is hard, just because we are who we are, not because we are married. But there are moments when I catch him looking at his ring, and I know he's remembering that day when I told him that I was never leaving him, no matter what. She needs that from you, deserves to hear that from you, surrounded by the people who love her." 

"How many are we up to now?" Greg took another sip.

"Two hund-"

"Two HUNDred?" He almost choked, and put his pint down.

"...and fifty. Her friends at Barts, your people from the Met, the odd person or two or ten from when Sherlock was in hospital...some of the homeless network, Mrs. Hudson...."

"I had no idea..."

"Sherlock is uhm..."

"What?"

"He is...hmmm...he wanted to surprise you - "

"John. Spill it."

"He has this trust fund, just sitting there, we could never use it all in two lifetimes - he wants to pay for the wedding." John whispered into his drink.

"Shit." Greg muttered, slammed back the rest of his pint, then left the table, returning with two rather large whiskies, placing one in front of John, the other he held in his hand; he watched as it shook and swore again.

"He wants to do this, for both of you, he isn't good at thanking people, he tried when he was in hospital, and you know how he is..."

Greg laid his head on the table. "Yeah, the wanker, I know how he is, he would be crushed if I tried to...and then he'd throw a tantrum for weeks..."

John nodded. "Yep, so please, for me, just take this gift from him in the way it was intended, have mercy on me, if nothing else? Yeah?"

"The things I do for you, mate. No, it is a lovely, grand arse gesture. I know Molly wouldn't be who she is without him. When he was hurt, and wouldn't wake up...I've never seen her like that, she paced all night on the nights when she actually came home. She took extra shifts, just so she had something to keep her occupied. She never cried though, just got through it..."

John sipped his whisky, and waited.

"...that night we got home from having dinner with you guys at Mrs. Hudson's flat, we got ready for bed, and she - it was like she deflated, everything just tumbled out, she couldn't stop shaking. Now, that he was safe and at home, she allowed herself to feel all the things that could've happened. I held her all night as she cried until she passed out and then she slept for two days."

"Yeah. You are the only one who gets to see that, because she trusts you, loves you more than anything, or anyone. No more of this 'cold feet' garbage, yeah?"

Greg shook his head. "Promise. I - uh, never formerly asked you, but you'll stand up for me, yeah?"

"Course I will. Drink up, hopefully they've decided on whatever shades of purple..."

"Purple?"

"You don't even want to ask." John rolled his eyes. "I had no idea...so many different shades and tints....and then the yellows...oh dear Lord, I dream in technicolour..."

"Saint John."

"No, it's worth it, just to see their faces. There were moments when I thought I wouldn't see him smile again, or laugh."

"You are honestly so gone on him - I mean, I guess deep down, I always knew, but when I saw you holding him, that day...I wished I had been able to do more..." he bent over his drink, and sighed. "You made him a good man, John. He was always brilliant, an arse, but god, could he take apart a scene - until you showed up, he seemed to be missing something, something that made him a bit human...."

"He was always a good man, Greg, you saw that in him, you took the time to see past the crap, and I'm sure there was a lorryload, you gave him a chance. Without you, he and I wouldn't be -"

Greg reddened, then threw down enough to pay for the bill. "Don't even try, John. I'm guessing there will be swans, doves..."

"...don't forget the peacocks...."

"Peacocks??"

"If unicorns existed...."

"Got it."

 

John got home to find the flat covered in wedding magazines; bolts of yellow silk, from gold to palest lemon; yards of lilac ribbon, stacks of cloth napkins, Sherlock was testing as many brands he could find - up to twenty linen companies so far... spreadsheets, notebooks, pens and highlighters were scattered over the coffee table, the desk, the kitchen tab...

Sherlock and Molly had crashed, in spite of their empty mugs of coffee. Sherlock was stretched out flat on his back on the couch, Molly was sitting on the floor next to him, her head resting on her arms.

"Molls?" John whispered.

"Hmmm?" 

"Can I get you a cab, sweetie?"

"Damn, we were just chatting about something, flowers I think, and I put my head down for a minute - what time is it?"

"Only about nine - thirty, we're gettin' old - "

"God, tell me about it." She stretched and covered a yawn.

"How is the circus going?"

"Hmm? Oh, John, it's going to be so beautiful. I'm basically along for the ride, because he knows me so well, but he sees me...differently than I do. Not sure I can pull this off - "

"If he thinks you can - "

Molly looked at her sleeping friend and touched his face. "He always thought I was stronger than I really am."

"Moll?"

"Bedtime, love, I gotta go home, and you need to go to bed."

Sherlock sat up slowly and looked at the disaster, then up at John. "It's not as chaotic as it seems, just a few loose ends and it's all -"

"I know, love, no worries. I'm going to walk Molly downstairs and get her in a cab. I'll be right back." John leaned down and kissed him then helped him off the couch and sent him off to bed. He walked Molly down the stairs, and into the slightly humid night air. She closed her eyes and asked so quietly he almost missed it:

"Greg okay?"

"Course he is -"

"He's not thinking of -" She worried her lip and couldn't quite meet John's eyes.

"No. Absolutely not. He will be there with bells on -"

"So, he asked you, then, to stand up for him."

"Yeah."

"And?"

"Course I said 'yes,' sweetie. It's going to be brilliant. You can do this. You want all this, don't you?"

She blushed and grinned. "Yeah, as goofy as it is, I do. We once made 'bucket lists' before bucket lists were invented. Sherlock still carries mine with him. and I carry his, we thought someone should hold on to our dreams for us, in case we forgot them. We were fifteen...yeah, you are on his. Not you specifically, of course, but the idea of you...I gotta go, I don't sleep well if I'm not with Greg...night." She kissed him on the cheek, then slipped into the cab, and John watched as it vanished into the night.

 

John walked back upstairs and into their bedroom. Sherlock was standing by the window, his back facing John, he had taken his shirt off, and John could make out the ridges and shadows of the scars that laced his shoulders, and wrapped around his spine and hips.

"He was scared - that he was going to mess up what he has with Molly by marrying her." He turned to face John and smiled softly at him, "and you ripped him a new one. You stood up for her."

John nodded. He took off his own shirt, and hung it over the chair, then slipped out of his trousers and pants. He walked over to his husband and touched his lips gently, then undid the buttons and zip on his ridiculously well designed trousers and slid them from his legs, leaving him in his dark red silk pants.

"God, love - you are remarkable." John ran his fingers lightly over Sherlock's obvious arousal and Sherlock moaned and leaned into him.

"Bucket list," John whispered. "Molly said you made a bucket list when you were fifteen, tell me? Please?"

Sherlock blinked at him."My list?" 

"Hmm....please."

"It was you, all about you, somehow...


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucket lists...

...it was one of those dark nights, where the stars seemed so close, we could have touched them, we snuck out and met at the park, she carried a huge bag even then, always: flashlight, extra batteries, pens, pencils, notebook, snacks, change of clothes...just in case..."

Sherlock and John had moved to the bed, John was leaning against the headboard, Sherlock was lying between his legs, his back against John's chest, John's fingers were lightly connecting Sherlock's freckles that were sprinkled liberally across his chest.

"We were lying in the grass, side by side, and she asked me what I wanted."

" ' What do you mean, 'what do I want?' ' "

"She said, 'From life? What do you want?' "

" 'Anything?' "

" 'Anything.' "

" 'Someone who loves me.' "

" 'I love you.' "

" 'You know what I mean, Moll - someone like you, just...' "

" '6' 2'' with big muscles?' "

 

John laughed, "You liked tall guys? Kind of missed the boat with me, love."

"I was fifteen. No, I didn't care what he looked like, I just wanted someone who would care about me, understand me, love me. I was, uhm, thin and odd looking, even more so then, and smarter than anyone in school...I was not universally adored, as you might have guessed. Molly and I were in different schools...she was my only friend."

 

" 'Why? What do you want, Molls?' "

" 'You will laugh.' "

" 'I rarely laugh, and never at you.' "

" 'No. No you don't. All right. But here, so we don't forget, here's a flashlight, pen and notebook. You write my list, then I'll write yours, and we'll keep them for each other, so there's always someone who knows...' "

 

"Did you, uhm, take it with you? Her list, when you left."

Sherlock nodded. "Be right back." He got out of bed, got his wallet out of his pants, and brought it back to bed; then took out an old, folded envelope and offered it to John.

"I carried it in my sock, for the first year. Then I had a bad feeling, somewhere in Eastern Europe...my last safe house, I gave it to the agent there and asked him to send it to Molly somehow. He did. She gave it back to me that day you brought her here..."

John shook his head in silence. 

"Please, John."

John took it gingerly removed the fragile, tattered, slightly blurred and blood stained paper and read it in a whisper:

Molly Hooper's Wish List  
transcribed by S. Holmes

(date smeared)

1\. get enough money to leave home

2\. enough so I can take S. with me

3\. meet someone that will marry me

4\. someone who loves me

5\. a lot!!!!  
(S.H.: you and you exclamation points, 4 is plenty)

6\. Big wedding, flowers, garden, S is there with his husband, happy, doves, peacocks, cake, more than one, lots of people, but not any of my brothers. Yellow dress. White looks ridiculous on me, no meringues. Honeymoon in Paris. Happily ever fucking after.  
(S.H.: Meringues? Oh that ridiculous movie about weddings...language, Molls)

 

He gave the paper back to Sherlock and watched him fold it carefully, then place it back in its envelope, and back into his wallet.

"And yours, love. What did Molly write down for you?"

"One thing."

John waited.

"Someone who will like me, not laugh at me, then learn to love me, forever. And won't mind if I'm a little bit weird. And won't care if I go to the shops, or sleep when I'm 'supposed' to, won't care about body parts in the fridge next to the cheese...and knows that one spot, behind my right ear."

"You made that last bit up, after 'forever.' "

"Yes."

John found that one spot, and found it again and again until Sherlock began sobbing quietly in his arms. 

"Forever, love. I promise." 


	12. Chapter 12

The invitations were all addressed, and stamped and ready to be mailed...all two hundred and seventy-three of them.

"Moll, are you sure?"

"I'm positive."

"You won't have family there, then."

Molly rolled her eyes at Mrs. Hudson, who nodded and stepped away to write a note to herself. "Sherlock, you have been the only family I've wanted or needed for the last thirty-something years. You are going to walk me down the aisle, finally, to the man I adore, and I don't really need anyone else there, just you, John and Greg. Except you have invited half of London."

"Only two-hundred and -." Sherlock started.

Molly laughed and had to bend down to kiss him on the nose, she being taller than him for once, as she was standing on a coffee table so Mrs. Hudson could properly take her measurements, then work on the pattern of the dress. "I know, sweetie. You are amazing, and I love you for doing this for me."

Sherlock grinned up at her and looked over his never ending 'to-do' list. Invitations ready to be mailed, check. Suits for the best men, need to get John to get measured again, it had been three years...

"Hmmmm?" Sherlock muttered, he realised Mrs. Hudson had asked him a question as he was running through the details left to be worked out.

"The cakes?" Mrs. Hudson asked again.

"We're using that bakery - the one that made that insane chocolate thing Molly brought us in hospital. It was the only memorable food that we ate in eight days. We will be doing a tasting tonight, if you and Mrs. Turner want to join us upstairs?"

"Oh no, dear, it's Zumba night, but save me a piece of your favourite and I won't say no tomorrow." She gave him a wink and continued measuring and taking notes, they had decided on a lightweight cotton material, in warm, brilliant, yellow that made Molly glow, and her eyes sparkle. Sherlock shook his head mentally; it wasn't the colour, it was Molly herself. He had never seen her happier...

"A big, outrageous hat, Molly, that's what you need! The dress will be simple and elegant, but we need to find you a brilliant hat. Are we done here, Mrs. Hudson?"

Mrs. Hudson nodded at him, trying to hide a smile that was threatening to take over her face. "I am so glad you are back, you lovely boy."

"A hat, Molly!! Get your shoes, purse - no, wait, you don't need your purse, we'll be back later, for the cake tasting. We'll stop for tea, then find the funkiest, wildest, most 'you' hat in London!" He scooped Molly from the coffee table and swung her around, then gently placed her down on the floor. They looked at each other for a moment, then Molly put her hand to her mouth and giggled.

"What?" Sherlock narrowed his eyes at her.

"We are so close to getting everything we've ever wanted." She whispered in amazement.

"Yeah, Moll. I promised you, remember? I promised."

"You remember everything, don't you, Sherlock?" She looked into his eyes and saw her entire history in them. 

"Of course I do." He said softly. "Of course, Molly."

 

" 'It will never happen.' "

" 'What won't?' "

" 'No one will ever fall in love with me and want to marry me.' "

" 'Of course they will.' "

" 'Uh-uh.' "

" 'Moll. Look at me. I promise, I swear you will fall in love with someone who will love you right back. I promise.' "

" 'How do you know?' "

" 'I just know, Moll.' "

 

Molly cleared her throat and grabbed his hand. "Right. A hat."

"Yup. A beautiful, wild hat....doodahs, flowers..."

"How will we know?"

"We'll know it when we see it."


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and Molly find their hat ladies.

"Where to next?" Molly sighed, full of a lovely tea, but still hatless. They had gone the traditional route, but after a couple of hours of fluff and netting, they needed to look elsewhere.

Sherlock tapped away at his phone for a few moments, then with a big grin, showed Molly a gallery full of crazy, stacked top hats, fedoras covered in feathers, curlicues and flowers galore.

"Yes!!!" Molly bounced in her seat, and squealed (yes, she actually squealed) Sherlock laughed as she covered her mouth in embarrassment.

"You are allowed, sweetie, squeal away. If not now, when are you ever going to?"

The black car (yes, they had hijacked one of Mycroft's drivers for the day) stopped at a little hole in the wall: a brightly graffitied door, no window full of hats, just a simple sign on the door. 

"Please pull for assistance." A long, black velvet rope dangled next to the door.

"Hmmm...mysterious..." Sherlock grinned at her. He pulled the rope and a small window in the door slid open. The eyes looked out, bored at first, then popped open in shock. 

"Ohmygoddddddd....it's you! The one who came back...the one in the scarf, and the coat! Charlotte, it's him!!!!!! Oh, what am I thinking, come in, come in!" A willowy redhead in her fifties unlocked the heavy door and ushered them in.

"You want to replace that earflapthingy, don't you?" She considered for a moment, then shook her head sadly. "Hmmm...not sure what we can do about that...it's become iconic....can't really mess with it....CHAR-lotte!!"

Sherlock and Molly were shown into a narrow room with a dark crimson couch, and random sumptuously upholstered armchairs, in deep purples and chartreuses, soft lighting, with a central spiral staircase leading upwards to who knows where, simply covered in hats.

"Tea, you simply must have tea, please? CHARLOTTE, get yer skinny arse in here, what are you doing up there..."

"Actually, my friend is getting married in a few months, and we saw your website, and she actually squealed when she saw your hats. And she never squeals, so I thought we needed to look you up."

"Robby- what are you on about, I was just fixing my - Ohmyg- why didn't you tell me he was here..." A petite, elfin blonde of indeterminate age all but skidded to a stop after she had flown down the stairs.

Robby rolled her eyes and sighed; then she looked Molly over, much as Sherlock would deduce a crime scene. "Turn around, spin...like when you'll be dancing... walk, down the aisle walk, mmmm...nice strut there, girl, you must love the guy. Uhm-hmmm. Now sit. Yes...I think we can do something for you, sweetie. Charlotte, are you seeing it?"

"You won't be wearing white. Yellow, we'll need a sample of the material - July wedding...crazy girl...sundress, you'll have to wear heels, unfortunate, but has to be done. Needs a good base, to shade your face a bit, a strong brim...uhm-hmmm...I'm seeing it Robby, yessssss....please say you'll stay for tea, oh do?"

Sherlock and Molly looked at each other and shrugged, they had found their hat people. They had a gorgeous tea, cakes, tiny sandwiches, cream puffs....Molly could barely move afterwards. But she bolted upright when Charlotte plopped an amazing top hat over Sherlock's wild curls. It was elegant, in dark grey silk, with a thin line of red and a thick band of 'scarf' blue...

"It's you, in a hat..." Molly's eyes glittered in amazement. The women had captured her friend perfectly. Robby handed him a mirror and he was speechless for a moment. 

"I - it's, uhm...thank you."

"We, uhm, after you...'left,' designed this, it was our tribute...to you. We had followed every case, recorded all the press conferences, we have files...boxes of..oh dear, you must think...Please, we never thought we'd ever meet you, it is our gift, and Molly, we will have something for you to try out in about a week. We just need to take some measurements...and then we need to consider how you will wear your hair that day, so we know what we are dealing with..."

Sherlock sat quietly and watched as the two women fussed and chatted in a kind of shorthand, they styled her hair in several different ways, mostly pulled away from her face, in a severe chignon. Molly rolled her eyes at first, used to spending no more than five minutes on her hair in the morning, then eventually, she sighed, closed her eyes, and relaxed. He smiled as she allowed herself to be pampered for once, and may have surreptitiously snapped a photo or two.

"There!" Charlotte announced. "The hat is just a stand in, but, there's the hair...Mr. Holmes?"

Sherlock sat up and walked around her. "Sherlock, please, ladies. Beautiful, absolutely stunning. He nodded and told Molly to keep her eyes closed, then helped her up and led her to the full length mirror. 

"Open your eyes, sweetie." He whispered.

Molly opened them slowly and blinked at herself. She had never had anyone take the time to style her hair for her, and she wondered at who it was in the mirror. She spun around to see the back, softly gathered together, with a few wisps that framed her face. It was still her, and yet, someone all grown up, someone who had fought so long for her place in the world, and she finally realised she deserved her hard-won happiness.

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh."

"Ladies, will you come to the wedding? As our guests, and to help do this for her? We would be honoured if you could?"

"Please?" Molly whispered.

Robby and Charlotte looked at each other, and would have squealed, but they managed to hold it in and simply nodded.

"A week?" Sherlock asked as he gathered their coats, Molly's bag and his top hat, that had been carefully packed away in a beautiful hatbox.

They blinked and nodded again, completely unable to form coherent words. Robby showed them out, and Sherlock and Molly giggled happily as they heard the women squeal and jump around just on the other side as soon as the enormous door closed with a thud.

"I think we need a nap before the cake tasting..." Sherlock yawned as they fell into the back seat.

"Oh, my god...I forgot...more cake??" Molly groaned.

"Life is hard, isn't it, Moll?"

"No. Not at the moment, sweetie."

Sherlock wrapped his arm around her as she leaned against his shoulder and fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some hats that inspired me...the shop I invented is not based on any real people or shops. I just imagine it would take a couple of quirky ladies to create a hat for Molly:
> 
> http://stephenjonesmillinery.com/ModelSS16
> 
> and especially:
> 
> http://www.philiptreacy.co.uk/collection


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After even more cake...just more sweetness...

After Molly, Greg and the bakers left, Sherlock collapsed on the couch.

"I'll never eat another piece of cake, ever, ever again..." John sat at his feet and watched his husband's face, as he was about to fall asleep.

"You're not disappointed, are you?" He whispered at Sherlock's feet.

"Hmmm? Disappointed? By what? With whom...huh?"

"That we didn't do all of this?"

"All this...what? Oh. John." Slowly, Sherlock managed to sit up, and pulled John into a deep, sweet kiss that could have lasted into the morning, except for the boring necessity of breathing that made John pull away.

"Why would you think I'm disappointed, love?" Sherlock whispered as he began undoing John's jeans.

"We didn't have...alllllll of thissss, oh go-hmmmmmm..."

"All of the what? We had you. (Kiss) We had me. (Nuzzle) Molly stood up for us. We looked amazing.(uhmhmmm) We had rings. (kisskisskiss) We had cake...oh god...cake...sighhhh. What else could I have wanted?" Sherlock sat back and looked down into John's blown eyes and smiled. "I didn't need anything else. I had everything I had ever dreamed of, John. There are days when I watch you sleep in the morning and I still can't believe that you are mine, that you want to be with me."

John looked up at Sherlock's beautiful, honest and open face, and whispered, "I love you. It's that simple and that complicated. That easy and that hard. You have broken my heart and healed it so many times over, I've lost track, love."

Sherlock bent over John and kissed his forehead, his nose, then his chin. Their eyes met and as he traced John's lips with his finger, he said, "I will never need anyone but you, I will never love anyone else but you, John Watson. I don't need the frills and bells and whistles, just you, only you." He finished undressing his husband, then laid back against the cushions and waited.

"Aubergine?"

"Of course."

John straddled Sherlock's bespoke trousered thighs and slowly undid the buttons of the tightly tailored shirt. He watched Sherlock's eyes darken and his lips gently part as he slid back and ran his fingers along Sherlock's inner thighs. "Jo-"

"Shhhh...." John unzippered the trousers, and slipped his hand against Sherlock's growing hardness. He smiled as he heard a sharp breath in, and saw his husband's eyes flutter shut. "Relax, love, I have you." John slid the trousers from Sherlock's legs with a practised hand, then nosed the growing wetness that darkened the dark grey silk pants. "You are so beautiful, love. I want you so much, it hurts. Can you feel it?" he picked up Sherlock's left hand and placed it against his own hard, leaking cock. 

"Johnnnnnn...."

"I will never not want you, need you. If I have to tell you that every day for the rest of your life, I will. I love you, Sherlock Holmes, I have never had a choice in the matter."

"Please?" Sherlock moaned, already sounding like he was falling apart.

"Please, what, love?"

"Take me to bed and...."

"....and....?"

"...make love to me, before I lose my mind. Please, John?"

"Since you asked so nicely." John moved from Sherlock's legs and offered him his hands, hauling him from the couch. "Exactly how many sweets did you eat today?"

"I haven't the foggiest idea."

"Honestly...." John shook his head as he changed his mind, and lifted Sherlock in his arms, kissing him softly as he carried him to bed; and as promised, made love to his detective, sweetly and thoroughly, until Sherlock's back arched and John's name spilled from his lips, almost in prayer.

John cleaned them up carefully, smiling as he watched Sherlock drift off to sleep; he lowered himself quietly against his husband's shoulder and laid his hand against Sherlock's chest. John sighed as he focused on the regular thrum of the heartbeat beneath his fingers and eventually, he too, slumbered at last.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story began in September, who knows why, but I'm sticking to it. I'm skipping Christmas, may do a Christmas bit later in yet another story with this crew, but for now we'll see if Sherlock remembers his anniversary/birthday or not...

The seasons changed, from an indifferent autumn to a bitter winter; Christmas passed uneventfully, they dutifully kissed on the stroke of midnight on New Year's Eve, and then John waited and wondered. The plans for the 'big do' in July were still simmering away, menus were worked on and reworked, debated and fussed with; the dress was almost completed...the hat, the glorious hat was well under way...

 

"Three years tomorrow, mate. Any big plans?" Greg put another pint in front of his silent friend.

"I'm having the extra bedroom finally converted into a lab, he's been at me for years, they start first thing tomorrow morning, already put the plumbing in for the sinks, added the vent system." He took a sip and sighed, "it's been easy since he's been out so much running errands for the wedding, he hasn't noticed a damn thing."

"Shit, I know what you mean, Molly is the same way, wedding magazines...flower catalogues, she's always at me, asking my opinion. I'm at the 'uh-huh, that's nice, whatever you want is fine' stage, and it's only January. At least the menus are done, things are almost set in stone."

John smiled. "It's going to be beautiful, though, and I've never seen him happier. He is so busy, he doesn't have time to worry about - eh, doesn't matter - just wish he could turn it off, he'll get an idea and he'll jump up, no matter what we happen to be - "

Greg nodded. "Yeah...at the most inconven - there's a match tonight - wanna stay?"

"Sure, why not, they'll be up to their eyeballs in...tonight, I think it's flowers, or centerpieces or favours..."

 

"Are you sure Greg will keep him there long enough?" Sherlock asked Molly nervously.

"If he knows what's good for him, he will." She grinned madly, and wriggled her eyebrows at him.

Sherlock sighed and rolled his eyes at her. "Really...Moll, you know I love you more than life itself but..." 

"Kidding, sweetie. I told him what the plan was, he's all for it. He's ready for a week of absolute zero mentions of the 'event.' Are you sure you are ready for this? It will be the first time since -"

"I need to do this for him, prove to him..."

"You don't need to prove anything to him."

Sherlock looked at her and shook his head. "I need to be whole for him. He deserves that. I want him to stop wondering, and worrying. He does, he tries not to show it, but I see it in his eyes. In his nightmares, he's still trying to find me, Moll."

Molly nodded. "Let's get your bags packed."

"I think they are still in the upstairs bedroom closet. I'll get them." He ran upstairs, and after ten minutes, Molly went up to find him. She found him leaning against the wall inside the bedroom that had been John's once upon a time.

"Sher - oh." Molly put her hand over her mouth, as she saw the beginnings of a working lab; sinks were leaning against the wall, there were boxes of tiles, a newly installed vent, a fan was in place, new lighting was ready to go in.

Sherlock had been stunned into speechlessness, and slowly sank to the floor, with his back against the wall. Molly sat down next to him, and held his hand.

"You didn't really believe him until now. Not truly. Did you? Even after all the two of you have been through...you still believed you needed to...oh, sweetie."

Sherlock shook his head and whispered, "I honestly thought...some day...Molly, he really wants to be with me. Me. He loves me."

"Yes, love. He has been to hell and back for you, and would follow you there. Come on, let's get you guys packed, both of you need this, you need some time just for the two of you."

Sherlock nodded and Molly helped him up from the floor, then crushed him a fierce embrace. "You are so loved. Don't ever doubt that, ever."

"I won't, Moll. Not ever again."

 

John opened the door to find a stack of suitcases next to the couch. He made it to his chair somehow and tried to rethink the last few days. New Year's they seemed fine, more than, he had thought, Christmas had been downright dull, but...

Oh, fuck. What did -

"Happy Anniversary, love."

"What the fu-"

Sherlock was fully dressed; coat, scarf, and he was pulling on the new gloves that John had given him at Christmas, since his last pair had been ruined in an experiment that Sherlock declined to fully explain.

"Tonight, we are staying at the poshest hotel I could find, then we are going on holiday, just the two of us. You are packed, ready to go, all you have to do is help me get these bags into the cab which should be here in, uhm, five minutes."

"But - "

"We've never gone on holiday together, and the last time I left England, I left without you, and the last few months have been some of the best and worst for us, and I wanted to show you how much -"

"Greg knew, he...that arse...and Molly?"

Sherlock nodded, and watched, a bit uncertain; John was still sitting in his chair, looking at his hands.

"I thought, shit, I'm sorry. With all the wedding stuff, I didn't think you'd remember." 

Sherlock knelt in front of him and held John's face in his hands. "Look at me, please. Please, let me, take care of you? There are some places I need you to see, the places that I wanted to share with you...I need you to go with me, please? No laptops, no texting, no wedding stuff, for a whole week. Just you and me?"

John opened his eyes and looked at Sherlock. "What will we possibly do for a whole week by ourselves?" He asked quietly, then kissed him soundly and sweetly.

"Haven't the foggiest." Sherlock smirked, and took John's hand in his. "But there's the cab, it's time to go. Trust me?"

John blinked at him. "Of course I do."

 

Thank you - JW

The least I could do, John. Turn off your phone, go to sleep. <3 you both.- MH

Phone? What phone? ;) <3 you guys- JW

 

John turned off both of their phones and sighed. He rolled over to look at the man lying next to him, who had been oddly quiet since they left Baker Street. He swore quietly to himself and whispered,"you saw the lab...well, the beginnings of the lab, the suitcases were in the closet - "

Sherlock nodded.

"And you understand now."

Sherlock nodded again.

"Three years ago, later today, I married you, actually not far from here, for a couple of reasons. The first was for practicality, so I could make decisions for you when you could not; so I could be with you, to hold your hand and talk nonstop utter balderdash at you, hoping you would wake up... 

No. I suck at this. I really do.

Not what I mean to say - damn it, I married you because I needed to give you everything I am, and it was the simplest way, I thought, to tell you how much our life together means to me. I wanted to show you how much I love - I wish there was another word, because it isn't the word for us - "

Sherlock smiled at John and placed his fingers on his lover's lips, which had slammed shut in frustration.

"I know. I've spent most of my life feeling very temporary, slightly (okay, yes, very) at odds with my place in the world, wondering why I was built the way I am. Until you. The day I met you, the very first moment - you made me feel solid; real...essential, somehow. I've always known of your love for me, ever since we finally admitted it to one another...but tonight, when I saw what you were doing, for me, giving up that space that had once belonged to you, the place where you spent years mourning for me - that act of reconstruction - I'm saying this badly, I'm getting there - you made me feel completely whole tonight, and I don't completely understand why, but I finally knew you truly are a part of me; I am a part of you. I finally understood - we are simply two parts of a whole. It's not you and me anymore, it hasn't been for a very long time, it's 'us.' I broke us when I left, and you put us back together by letting me come back. I need you to know I understand now. "

John blinked at him and took him into his arms. "Yes, love. Exactly what I meant to say."


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sexy times for the boys, before they go to Paris...and the ringtone...just go with it ;)

"Paris?" John looked at the tickets, shook his head and grinned. "Bit of a cliche -"

"Uhm-hmm."

"Never been."

"I know."

"You were there."

"Yep."

"Why -"

"Because after I did what -, what I was there to do - I was walking early one morning, the Eiffel Tower's lights were still on, no one else was on the street, but I could smell bread baking. I was in rags, meant to appear homeless - I stopped by a bakery window and a girl popped out, she smiled up at me, and ran back in, then gave me a bag of croissants. I had money and tried to give it to her, she wouldn't take it. They were the best things I ever ate, outside of your thing with peas, of course. I swore if I ever got home to you, I was going to take you there."

"How long before our flight?" John whispered.

"It's not til tonight."

"So, we have all day."

"Uh-huh..."

"Let me go put that 'Do Not Disturb' thing on the door handle."

Sherlock nodded.

John returned, and let the hotel's robe fall from his shoulders before he climbed back onto the bed. "Don't move. Let me, please? Keep your eyes on mine? I want to see -"

Soon, Sherlock was finding it difficult to keep focused. John knew those places in the dark, he would know them blindfolded; John knew him. Sherlock watched John's eyes slowly darken, felt his breath change, then John's lips found his and he was lost. His eyes closed as the stars blazed through and around him. John at last found his hands and brought him back.

Sherlock opened his eyes to see John's smiling face.

"You haven't smiled like that in months. I've missed you. God, I've missed you, love."

"I haven't gone anywhere."

"No, I know, but, that light in your eyes, in your voice. I've missed that so much. Can I?"

John nodded and laid on his back. Sherlock took his time, he kissed every bit of the man beneath him until neither of them could breathe.

"Please, love."

Sherlock nodded as he slowly lowered himself on John's aching, weeping cock. John's eyes rolled back and he reached out for Sherlock's hands. They held on tightly to each other; Sherlock watched John's face tighten, then relax, his lips parted slightly as Sherlock found a rhythm that took them both by surprise. 

"John, oh -"

"Yes, love. There, don't stop, please - damnnnnnnn - I -"

Sherlock shook as he felt John release within him, over and over. Somehow, John's pleasure overtook him again, and spilled over into laughter: light, wispy chuckles he tried to smother exploded into full body guffaws. John joined in and they were in danger of falling from the bed when John took a deep breath and was able to pull out from Sherlock's still quivering body.

John pulled Sherlock tightly to him, holding him until he finally stilled.

"You are remarkable, John. You, how - you do - " Sherlock ran out of words and fell asleep against John's chest.

"No, love. You are the remarkable one." John whispered against Sherlock's curls. He knew they would regret it later, but he was in no mood to leave the bed, so he stretched for the remote and found a marathon of Black Adder, which was still funny, perhaps even funnier without the sound.

Hours later, he woke up to Sherlock singing in the shower, and he couldn't help smiling, it was that same song he used to have as his ringtone, long since retired.

 

"Don't want to close my eyes  
I don't want to fall asleep  
'Cause I'd miss you baby  
And I don't want to miss a thing  
'Cause even when I dream of you  
The sweetest dream will never do  
I'd still miss you baby  
And I don't want to miss a thing"

 

"You never forget anything, do you?"

"No. Not when it's about you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah, an odd ringtone, but it works for them ;)
> 
> I Don't Want to Miss A Thing:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ss0kFNUP4P4


	17. Chapter 17

The plane was delayed, of course it was. So, they sat and waited. It reminded John too much of the waiting he had done recently, so he stood and walked to the window. Sherlock stood behind and wrapped his long coat around him, and John leaned into Sherlock's warmth. They stood together and watched the January rain fall.

 

Molly turned in her sleep, reached for Greg and found only an empty space next to her. She found him at the window, watching the rain. He was dressed in only his pajama bottoms, the 'donut' pair that she had bought him as a joke one Christmas. She wrapped her arms around him and leaned against him. 

"Sorry."

"What for, sweetie?"

He spun in her arms and looked down at her. He lifted her and she wrapped her legs around him, and he carried her back to bed, laid her down and looked at her. "I'm not good at telling you, words fail...I don't think you know how much I love you, Molly Hooper. No - shhh." He touched her parted lips with a single finger, and her words froze. "I worry you don't know, I want you to know. I'm not so good with words. I love how you look at me that way, your eyes glitter and dance at me, like I'm an idiot. You are so lovely, so strong, so unbelievably brave, and I wonder some days, why you need me."

Molly sat up and looked into his eyes. "I need you because I love you. My heart jumps into my throat when you walk into the room; when you call my name, my breath stutters. When you kiss me, I feel it in my toes, and in my fingernails; when you leave each day, I ask whatever angels that are out there to watch over you, so you come home to me safely each night. I know, love. I know when you take my hand in yours, when you make me tea in the morning and leave me love notes when you have to go in early."

"Moll - I need you so much."

"Lie down, love, let me, please?"

Greg laid beside her and helped her remove her t-shirt. "You are so beautiful, Molly." She straddled his thighs and smiled softly at him; then leaned over him, kissing her way from his navel to his nipples. She smiled as she felt him jump beneath her lips.  
"Molly," he whispered.

 

The plane finally landed, Sherlock nudged John awake and he yawned. He smiled at Sherlock and raised his fingers to his lips. "We made it, love."

"Only because of you, John. Without you -"

"Shhhh, it's us, remember? It takes both of us to be who we are. Don't forget that."

Sherlock nodded and kissed him. "Us." 

 

Molly collapsed against Greg's chest, feeling him still slightly quivering beneath her did something peculiar to her normally well-ordered brain.

"You -"

"Me?" Greg mumbled. "I was just lying here innocently - "

"There was nothing innocent about that, love."

Greg rolled them on to their sides so he could look at her properly. He laughed as he took in her mussed hair, her kiss swollen lips and her eyes that were slowly adjusting to normal. "I did that to you -" he whispered to her in wonder.

"Yes, love, you just took me apart and put me back together, not sure if you did it correctly. I feel slightly fuzzy and off-center still."

"Now you know how I feel every time I look at you, touch you, smell your perfume near me, or even just think about you, Molly Hooper."

Molly grinned and kissed him within an inch of his life, and felt him begin to harden against her. "Already?" 

Greg smirked at her a bit sheepishly, and she laughed with a joy he couldn't remember hearing before. "I don't have anywhere else to be, do you?"

"No, DI Lestrade, my schedule appears to be quite open for the foreseeable future."


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The bakery...

They dropped their bags at the tiny place Sherlock had found online, quiet and private; very different from the poshness of the London hotel. Sherlock exchanged a few words with the proprietress, she didn't seem all that different than Mrs. Hudson, and John smiled as she winked at John when she gave Sherlock a brief kiss on the cheek.

"Not far from where I stayed when - " John took his hand as they walked outside, into the dark, still, early hours of the morning. Sherlock held on tightly, he had not realised how important it was for him to do this, for John, and for himself. He needed to prove to himself that he was stronger than his past, stronger because of the man next to him, who tightened his grip on Sherlock's hand and leaned against his shoulder as they walked into the wind.

"Ahhh - oh, that smells amazing!" John looked up into Sherlock's eyes and smiled, when he nodded at him. "That's the same...you were here, I'm standing where you were. You have no idea, love, what it means to me, that you would do this for me, for us." John pulled him into a kiss, sweet and calming, and Sherlock was able to go on.

"Here it is." Sherlock stopped in front of a brightly lit window, let go of John's hand and waited.

"Sherlock? It is you!" A girl of eighteen flung herself out the door and into the detective's waiting arms. "And your John. Yes, oh yes, I see it." Without a word, she grabbed John's face in both hands and kissed him soundly on both cheeks. She pulled them into the bakery and sat them down, then went into the back and brought out a platter of fresh croissants, and two cups of strong, thick chocolate.

"You take very good care of Sherlock, John, the first time I saw him, too thin, but still beautiful. He looked hungry, sad. He missed someone, in Paris. He told me of his John, how he was trying to get back to you. He didn't stay long, but he promised someday he would come back, and bring you. I can tell you love him very much, John, in the way you look at him, the way you touch him." John blushed, but Sherlock smiled at him, as he ate another croissant. John laughed and wiped the jam from the detective's lips with his thumb, then kissed him.

They stayed for an hour until the sky began to brighten. Sherlock and the girl, her name was Helene, chatted away in French; John knew he was being discussed as Sherlock would wink at him, and kiss his fingers. He knew that Sherlock told her of their marriage as he showed her his ring and shared the story of the surprise ceremony; and then of being injured and of his recovery; the emotions showed plainly on her face and she hugged Sherlock fiercely, then kissed John before she went into the back for a moment. Sherlock excused himself and went to visit the gents.

She came back with a small package, which she handed to John. "No, open it later, private. Thank you, John for bringing him back, I have thought of him often, and of you. I take the English papers and see you together, makes my heart happy. When I knew he made it home, I screamed and jumped in joy, my papa thought I was crazy. I wasn't sure he would be able to come back, he saw some bad things here. No, he didn't tell me about that, I could see it in his face, he only told me of you, of how much he loved you and was afraid; I was fourteen, I was safe somehow. I gave him bread and he in return gave me a love story. I hope someday, I will find someone..."

Sherlock returned and gave her a kiss. She hugged him and winked at John, a look that told him to take care of the story for her, keep it safe. He embraced her and promised he wouldn't let her down.

She turned the sign on the door, as they left; her day was just beginning as they were headed to bed.

 

Sherlock was in the bathroom when John remembered the small package in his pocket. He sat on the bed and opened it slowly. In the brown paper was a lace handkerchief wrapped around a crumpled photograph and John's dog tags. John let his breath out with a small sob. The photo was one taken shortly before the Fall, one of the few of them together, somehow the photographer had captured a good moment, as they were both laughing.

"John?" Sherlock walked back in the room, a towel draped around his hips. Then he saw what was in his husband's hand and cleared his throat nervously.

"I - took those with me, I knew I shouldn't have, but I needed to have you near me. When I was here, I realised if something happened to me, those things shouldn't be found on me, so I gave them to her to keep safe..."

John got up from the bed, his tags in his hand, and he walked over to Sherlock. He kissed the tags then undid the chain and put them around Sherlock's neck, then closed the chain again. "These belong to you, love." He unwrapped the towel from Sherlock's hips and heard the sharp intake of breath. "I am so glad you made it back to me, thank you for not giving up, I know it would have been easier some days, but thank you." He pulled Sherlock into a tight, loving embrace and Sherlock lowered his head onto John's shoulder.

"You got me home, John. Your love got me through."

John led him to the small bed, just big enough for the two of them, and thought of Sherlock alone in a darker, smaller, grey room not far from where they were. He shook his head and watched as Sherlock slid under the covers and reached for him. John nodded and laid down in his arms, his head on Sherlock's strong shoulder, their fingers entwined; they fell asleep as the weak winter sun blazed through the lace curtains.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> and yes, more angst...sorry...really sorry, but this just happened...a few chapters, then back to fluff, promise

John was fiddling with the change in his pocket, waiting for yet another delayed flight. On their way to New York City. He had never been there and was looking forward - he accidentally turned his phone on, took it from his pocket and looked to see thirty messages. Fuck!

John - where are you guys? why is Molly alone? - Mike

 

Four days earlier:

Molly paced and kept looking at her watch... midnight, one am...and a knock at the door made her freeze. After a moment, she somehow got her feet to move and opened the door to a shaken Sally Donovan.

"Please, Sally. No -"

"He's stable, Molly, we were able to get to get the bleeding stopped, I had to do CPR...He's in surgery right now. I'm so sorry. I'm here to drive you over there. No, don't touch me, please, Molly. If you do, I'll -"

Molly wrapped Donovan in a gentle hug and felt the other woman shake; and they slowly fell to their knees.

"It's okay, Sally, he's a tough bugger. You were there for him, you saved him. You saved him, Sally. I'm going to drive you home, so you can have a shower and change your clothes."

"Molly -"

"Sally - please don't argue with me? I'm going to grab a bag, and then I'm driving you to your place. Please, let me do this for you. Your hands are still shaking, I don't know how you made it over here - please sit, won't be a moment, I always have a bag packed, just in case -"

 

What do you mean, why is Molly alone? Where is Greg? - JW

You don't know? Where the fuck are you?- Mike

Italy. On holiday. - JW

What happened, Mike? - JW

Shit! I forgot! Molly will kill me. - Mike

Mike? - JW

Greg got shot three, now four days ago, he's going to be fine, should be fine. - Mike

Fuck! - JW

She didn't want Sherlock to know while we were away. - JW

She told me, fuck, I'm so sorry. - Mike

No, it's okay, tell her we'll be home as soon as we can. - JW

 

John closed eyes and swore. He opened them to see Sherlock spinning, yes, actually spinning down the terminal towards him. The last few days had been amazing; now they would always be remembered as a time when Sherlock wasn't there for Molly. Fuck.

"What is it John?" Sherlock plopped down in the seat next to him and sighed.

"We have to go home."

"In a few days, yes, of course we do."

"No. Greg is in hospital, we have to go home."

John cringed at the change in Sherlock's face as he pulled his phone from his pocket and turned it on. Not a single message from Molly. "She wasn't going to tell me. John, she thought...she actually thought...shit. I have to change our tickets."

Sherlock stood and walked over to the counter, a different man than the one who had moments ago twirled in complete joy, at peace with the world for once.

"Please, we need to get back to London. Earliest flight you have." He was barely keeping himself together. He wondered why he wasn't flying apart, instead of standing, sounding very adult and a posh one, at that.

"Your bags are already on the other plane, we will try to get them off, it may be too late."

"It doesn't matter. Just doesn't matter." He slowly made it back to his seat, then closed himself off from everything that could touch him.

 

Molls - we'll be home tomorrow morning. - JW

Mike told you, I told him not to. - MH

Sherlock doesn't understand. I do. Molls, I know you meant well, he just doesn't get why you wouldn't ask him to come home. - JW

I didn't want...you guys needed time. - MH

He would give up anything to be there for you, Molls, a holiday is nothing to him, to us, compared to being there when you need him. - JW

Shit. I fucked up. I'm so sorry. Can you tell him? - MH

Don't worry, Molls, just take care of Greg and it will be okay, we'll be there as soon as we can. We love you and Greg so much. Try to get some rest? - JW

 

John turned off his phone and watched Sherlock's reflection in the window as they sped down the runway. All the happiness from the last few days had evaporated; the lines around his eyes had deepened, and his hands were clasped together tightly. He not had spoken since he changed their tickets, and wouldn't look at John. John laid back in his seat and groaned to himself. He had told Molly everything would be okay, but he had no idea where to begin.


	20. Chapter 20

They were exhausted, they had no idea what day or time it was, and they desperately needed showers. Sherlock had the cab drop John off at Baker Street. Their bags would be arriving in the next day or two as they had made the trip to New York City without them.

"Get some sleep."

"Let me - "

"John, I need one of us to be at least half-way sane? Please, do this for me?"

"Text me when you know his status?"

"I promise. I love you. I'm sorry I've been a complete git. It isn't your fault." He kissed him gently.

"It's not her fault either. Be gentle, yeah?"

Sherlock nodded, and John shut the door after he got out and watched the cab speed off.

 

He's on his way, Molls. - JW

I'm so sorry, John. I know that I screwed up, I just wanted... - MH

I know, sweetie, he's calmer now, but still upset, just no caffeine, if he falls asleep, let him, been up for too many hours, not even sure how long now. - JW

You're the best, John. - MH

 

Sherlock closed his eyes and took a deep breath before he went through the doors of the hospital. He went to the desk and asked for DI Lestrade's room number.

"He's in 213 - Wait. Aren't you?"

Sherlock narrowed his eyes and was about to rudely deduce the smiling woman in front of him, when he looked up to see Molly coming towards him.

"Yes, I'm a friend of his. Thank you."

Molly walked slowly down the hallway and then stopped as she saw his face. She knew that face. She had fucked up royally. She was the one person besides John who could truly hurt him, and she had, badly. He was closed to her, though he walked up to her and opened his arms to her, she knew it would take a long time before he could fully forgive her.

"I'm sorry -" she tried to speak, but he pulled her tightly against him and the coat muffled her voice.

"No. Don't you dare. You have nothing to be sorry for. Have you eaten, slept? Look at me - Molly Hooper. Is there an extra bed where he is?" She nodded. "Good. You will sleep, then I will get you some real food, and you will eat. That dress is going to fall off of you if you lose any more weight."

She almost laughed, but then she saw the look in his eyes, and she sighed. "Come with me. It looks worse than it is, he should be awake, but -"

Sherlock took her hand in his and they walked in silence to Greg's room. He stopped short when he looked in the window. Greg was buried under tubes and wires, not yet breathing on his own. "Molls, Oh, sweetie - why - never mind. I'm here, now; I'm here Molly. I'm here, love." She was trying not to cry, she didn't want to fall apart in front of him, not now; but she had held everything in for the last five days and it finally caught up to her.

She sobbed against him, trying to stop the flow of everything falling apart on her. "Let it go, Molls, it's okay, sweetie. He opened the door and helped her onto the bed, she laid down and stared straight ahead, unblinking. He finally looked at her face, and saw everything that must have been etched into John's face just a few months ago. Her eyes had lost their warm amber glow, her hair hadn't been washed in days, and her skin was grey, appeared almost bruised in the florescent lighting. He took off her shoes, and brought the lightweight blanket over her shoulders.

"Do you want me - ?" He asked, unsure how he could help.

"Please?" He took off his scarf, coat, suit jacket and shoes and climbed into bed next to her. He pulled her into his warmth and she whispered, "tell me something beautiful you saw when you were away, please? I need to hear something beautiful."

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, but then recognised her need. She needed to be 'not here' so she could finally sleep, be away from the pain in this room for a few hours.

"The most beautiful thing I saw when we were away was John. He had only seen other countries at war, had never been abroad for fun. His eyes when he saw the Eiffel Tower at night all lit up; when he tasted his first croissant fresh from the oven; I had never seen them quite that colour, they sparkled. I, you, we, helped him see that, Molly, that there are good, perfect moments in the world. He will always have those memories, and you helped to give him that. I just wish, I wish that you had known that we would have dropped anything, everything to be here with you. Both of us love you and Greg more than anything else in the world. You didn't have to do this alone, sweetie. You are strong, and you are amazing, but there are times when you need to ask for help."

She turned so she could face him, tears flowing down her face. "I know. I knew that. But I knew how much the two of you needed the time together. You don't know how many times I thought of texting you, calling you, just to hear your voice mail message. I thought - I don't know what I thought, but I needed you to have that time, you missed so much time with John already."

Sherlock smiled softly at her and wiped her face with his handkerchief. "John and I, we finally know that we don't need to leave Baker Street to be with each other, love. We can be here with you, as you take care of Greg, and that is enough. Go to sleep, Molls. I'm not going anywhere. Okay?"

She nodded and he pulled her closer against him and felt her finally let herself sleep.

 

He cringed as he realised the easiest way to find out what had happened, but he needed to know.

 

Donovan, what the hell happened to Greg? - SH

Hello to you too. How was your trip? - SD

Sorry. What is his status, please, tell me what happened? I don't want to ask Molly. - SH

Of course. Yeah. Well, he was shot in the shoulder, almost bled out, I was right behind him, he had moved just enough at the right/wrong time, to block me - I would've been dead, Sherlock, if he hadn't moved. - SD

Shit. Did you get the arsehole? - SH

No, he got away. I was trying to take care of Greg. We weren't even on a case, we were just walking to get a coffee, we were working late, trying to get caught up on paperwork. Paperwork, Sherlock! If we hadn't been right in front of the station, he wouldn't have made it. As it is, it was close, - SD

Any CCTV? - SH

Yeah, I'm working through it, of course the arse was wearing a hoodie. - SD

I can... - SH

No. Absolutely not! Sherlock, you need to be there with Molly. I told her to get a hold of you, but she wouldn't do it. She didn't want to bother the two of you. I tried to tell her - She needs you, but she thinks she's invincible. She's not. She's scared, and she needs you to be there fully focused on her. I know she hurt you, I get it, but let it go, and be her friend. That's what she needs most of all right now. They don't know why he isn't waking up, and she's terrified. - SD

Okay. - SH

Okay? - SD

You're right. - SH

What? - SD

I won't repeat myself - SH

I'm never deleting this thread, EVER. - SD

I'm being an arse. She was here for John and me and I'm being a total berk. Thank you Donovan, just keep me updated. Please. - SH

Since you asked so nicely, I will bring you a stack of cold cases for when she's asleep, yeah? - SD

Yer a peach, Donovan. And don't blame yourself. The person to blame is the arse who pulled the trigger. Not your fault. So put it out of your head. - SH

Easier said than done, will take under consideration. Thanks - SD

 

He was shot in the shoulder, almost bled out, they don't know why he won't wake up - SH

Shit. Maybe the blood loss, Concussion possible? - JW

Don't know. Get some sleep. I love you. I miss you. God, I miss you. - SH

I know, I miss you. I love you so much, I'll be there first thing tomorrow, please get some sleep. - JW

I will. - SH

 

"I need coffee." Sherlock groaned aloud.

"No. John said no coffee, sleep. He said you needed to sleep." Molly muttered.

"Arse."

Molly took his phone and put it on the table, then snuggled closer to him. "Please, just sleep here with me. Please."

He looked down at her and nodded. "Anything, Molls, you know that, yeah?"

She nodded at him as she went back to sleep. He closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around her and was soon sound asleep.


	21. Chapter 21

When Sherlock woke up half a day later, John was sitting in a chair on one side of Greg's bed, while Donovan was leaning against the wall, across from him. 

"No change?" Sherlock whispered, hoping Molly would stay asleep.

Donovan shook her head, and took another sip of coffee. She made a face, then looked down at the floor.

"When was the last time you slept, Sally?" Sherlock asked her, not unkindly.

"Hmmm?" She looked up at his use of her given name and tried to glare at him, then rolled her eyes. "Six days, maybe, don't know."

Sherlock got up from the bed, and walked over to her. He took the cup out of her hand and threw it away. He spoke softly to her. "Lift your right foot. Please." She rolled her eyes at him, but did as he asked. He slipped off her shoe and gently put her foot down on the floor. "Left, please." Again she lifted her foot and sighed as he took her shoe off. She put her foot down and looked at up him. The defiance in her eyes was faltering.

"Go get in bed, Donovan. Please. You can have your shoes back if you sleep for six hours."

"Holmes."

"Sally, you are no good to Greg like this, you can't function on no sleep."

"You're one to talk."

"Exactly. I know what I'm talking about then, don't I?" He offered her a weak attempt at a smirk, and she allowed him to help her get in the bed next to Molly, who was still sound asleep.

"Please, close your eyes, Donovan. We're here, we're not going to let anyone hurt him, yeah?"

She nodded, closed her eyes and was asleep when her head hit the pillow.

"What do you think, love?" Sherlock stood behind John's chair, and placed his hands lightly on John's shoulders, needing to make contact with his husband after not seeing him for twelve hours.

"I don't know. But his shoulder is a mess. Looks like the bullet bounced around in there like a damn pinball. It didn't exit, so they had to find it. They got it out, but he was under for a long time. Probably made the right choice, who knows what could've happened if they had waited."

"It's too long." Sherlock murmured.

"Yeah, he needs to wake up soon." John rubbed his face, then reached for Greg's hand. "C'mon, mate, we need you to come back. We're all here, Molly, Sherlock, Donovan, me - we all need you. You aren't going to get out of the wedding this easily. You bastard."

At that, Greg squeezed John's hand, hard. Sherlock moved so he could see Greg's face. He saw the anger mixed with confusion and pain in his eyes and nodded. "You are going to be fine, Graeme." Greg tried to roll his eyes at him, but instead, he closed them again and alarms sounded. Molly and Donovan leaped from the bed and a crew of nurses ran in. Donovan, John and Sherlock held Molly back as they worked to get things stable again.

When the room cleared, Greg was once again breathing on his own; he was awake long enough to kiss Molly and tell her that he loved her and wanted her to go home. She nodded at him, holding his hand as he fell asleep again. 

Donovan held her hand out for her shoes and Sherlock gave them to her. "I'm going home, he's got everyone he needs here. Thank you, Holmes, I won't forget this."

"Remember what I said, Donovan. Let it go, he wouldn't want you to take it on yourself. You didn't do it. You are the reason he's still here, yeah?" She nodded at him, slipped on her shoes and was gone.

Both Sherlock and John knew it was useless to try to get Molly to go home and have a good night's sleep; John especially understood the need to be there, and he knew she wouldn't sleep at home. He also knew Sherlock needed to be with her. She would never ask him to stay, but John knew she needed him there as much as he needed to be by her side.

John yawned and stretched. "I'm going to go to Angelo's and bring some food back here, and BOTH of you WILL eat."

"I'll be right back, Molls." Sherlock whispered. Molly nodded, but wasn't listening to either of them; she was too busy reading the latest match scores to Greg. Sherlock walked out with John to the hallway, and kissed him soundly. "I know how hard this must be for you, love. We'll take turns sleeping in the bed here. I don't want you to go home alone right now. I can tell by your face that the nightmares are back; aren't they? You didn't sleep yesterday or last night."

John shook his head and leaned into Sherlock. "Every time I closed my eyes, I was back in Afghanistan, or in hospital, or watching you fall. I wish I could program my head so we were back in Venice."

At the mention of Venice, Sherlock smiled at him and kissed him again."We will re-enact Venice later, I promise." John grinned in spite of everything and brushed an errant curl from his husband's eyes. 

"I'll be back soon, love." He turned and walked down the hallway. Sherlock watched him until the small figure vanished around a corner, then he went back into Greg's room.

Molly looked up at him as he entered. The light in her eyes was coming back; she bit her lip, then whispered. "He's going to be fine, isn't he? He woke up, that's good, isn't it, Sherlock?"

He bent down in front of her. "Yeah, Molls, it's good, but he needs time to rest, time to heal. When he's awake, he will be in a lot of pain, and he might be embarrassed to have you see him like that. So, he may ask you to leave, you can't take it personally."

"But you and John - " she began.

"Oh, Molls, it's different. John had already seen me at my worst. When I came back?" She nodded. "It was awful, even though he had patched me up before. I didn't want him to see, I didn't want him to know what was done to me when I was away; but he didn't care, he wanted to take care of me, it took time. I had to learn to trust him again until I could let him. When I was in hospital, he already knew how it would be, we were both used to it, unfortunately. I think Greg may not be ready for you to have to see him like that."

"But, I want -"

"I know, love. I know. Why don't you tell him, now. He's asleep, a little bit under from the drugs, but he may hear you. Tell him, sweetie. I'll go for a walk."

"No, stay, please. I - uhm, need you here, please?"

Sherlock saw the truth in her eyes and stood next to her as she began.

She took his hand in her two small hands,"Greg - I'm not going home til you can come home with me. It's just the way it's going to be, sorry. I, uhm, need you to know that I want to be here for you, hold your hand, talk to you, listen to you when you wake up. Even if you are in terrible pain, I want to be here for you, I want you to be able to see my eyes, loving you, taking some of the pain for you, please let me be here for you, love. Please."

Molly waited for some sign, anything that he heard her words. "Please, love," she went on. "Don't push me away now, I'm here, and I'm not going away. So you'll just have to get used to the idea." Sherlock rolled his eyes, his Molly was back and in charge.

Greg laughed a little, and whispered. "Molly, love. Okay, okay. Just get some sleep please? Give the nurses a break, and Sherlock, tell John I owe him a punch in the nose when I can move again. Arsehole."

Sherlock laughed. "I'll tell him, better yet, you can tell him later. He's out getting dinner."

"Great - you guys get real food while I have to deal with this lovely liquid diet."

"Stop complaining, you." Molly kissed his hand softly and whispered, "go back to sleep, I'll be here when you wake again."

"I know, sweetie. I know. I'm counting on it. I'm sorry, love, I'm just so tired."

Molly kissed him once more as he fell asleep, then she collapsed into Sherlock's arms. "I don't know what I will do if..."

"Stop it, Molly Hooper. Right now. He is going to be fine. Oh, sweetie, it's okay. I know. Come on, let's go lie down til John gets back, you need to rest, so you can be there when he wakes up, right?"

Molly nodded, and allowed Sherlock to lead her back to bed. "He will be fine, Molls. He will marry you in July, I swear. Do you hear me, love?" She curled up against him, and sniffled until she fell asleep.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by an episode of House...sorry, almost through the angst...there will be tooth-rotting fluff later, promise!!!

John put the bag quietly on the table when he got back. Molly and Sherlock were fast asleep, Molly tucked away in Sherlock's arms, he held her tightly against him, as if keeping all the bad things of the world away from her.

He sat next to Greg, and sighed. At least this time it's a blue chair. Someone must have complained finally. He got up, and opened a covered dish. "Mmmm, perfect, Angelo...." He took a deep breath and sat down to eat. He polished it off and heard his phone vibrate.

 

How is he? - SD

Still sleeping peacefully, hope you got some sleep yourself? - JW

A little, thanks. I appreciate what you guys are doing for Greg and Molly. I know we don't get along usually, but I am grateful. He's a good guy, didn't give up on me. - SD

You're a good cop, Donovan, and you saved Greg, you just made good in my book. - JW

Thank you, John, Means a lot. Let me know if I can do anything? - SD

Just find the arse who did this, yeah? - JW

Gonna start again tomorrow. - SD

Get some sleep. - JW

You too. - SD

 

John was reading a book he brought from home when he heard Greg's voice. 

"Greg?"

"John - oh, god, so glad it's you." Greg reached out for his friend and held on tightly to his hand, "How did you get through this? It hurts so fucking much." A tear rolled down his face, and John remembered all too well.

"Drugs, lots and lots of drugs, I was out for a couple of weeks, and then the infection set in. Shit. Sorry, Greg. You need to tell me if it's too much, I know you want to be able to be awake for Molly, but if it's too much pain, you need to let your doc know. They can put you under again, safely, until you are able to heal some. Your body needs to rest, and if the pain is waking you up - "

Greg bit his lip. "Can you wake Molly up? I need to talk to her first, and you have to back me up, yeah? Please?"

John nodded. He got up and touched Molly's shoulder. "Molls, Greg is awake and needs to talk to you. Come on, love."

She got up and walked over slowly and sat in the chair.

"I need you to hear me Molly Hooper. Please don't interrupt, 'Kay? I love you so much, and I need you to listen."

Molly nodded and held his hand.

"This really fucking hurts, and as much as I want to be able to talk to you and see your beautiful face, I'm going to ask them if they will put me under - shhh, hear me, please?"

"I keep waking up, I'm feeling everything, the drugs I'm on aren't enough, love. And if they do this, you need to go home, or go home with Sherlock and John. You need to do this for me. For us. You still have stuff to do for the wedding, for our wedding. And your job - I need to know you are taking care of yourself, or are being taken care of. You won't do me any favours by sitting here while I sleep. Please, Molly? I won't if you can't handle it, but I - it's just - "

"Shh, love, I know. I can see it in your eyes. You're in pain right now, trying to smile at me through it. I promise, I will go home with Sherlock and John tonight, if they will have me."

"Of course we will, you are welcome to stay as long as you need to. Not even a question. Do you want me to get the doc?"

Greg nodded. "Please?"

John left, and Molly took Greg's hand. "Let me stay until you fall asleep, please? And can I come do the puzzle and have coffee in the mornings next to you before I go to work? I need to be able to kiss you, even if you don't know I'm there. Please?"

"Yes, love, come closer, please?"

Molly moved closer and leaned over him, He kissed her sweetly and smiled at her.

"I love you so much, Molly Hooper. Thank you, love."

Molly sat down and watched John come back with the doctor.

"Greg, if we do this, we will try for two weeks, and then we will wake you, and see where we are. We will monitor you, and make sure everything is working as it should. If we need to ask for your wishes, who should we talk to?"

"Molly Hooper is legally in charge of my care. Sorry, love, I was going to tell you, I did it after you agreed to marry me, when I changed my will...I trust you, with my life. Okay?"

Molly nodded and held his hand. 

"It will take a few minutes, we can give you some privacy, if you wish."

"John, please stay?"

John nodded and stood next to her. The doctor left to change the orders for Greg's care.

"You're so beautiful, Molly."

"Now I know you're on drugs, Gregory Lestrade. I look like hell and you know it."

"There's my girl."

"Always. Always, my love."

"I love you so much, Molly."

"I know. I know, love,"

The doctor came back in and nodded to John, "It will take just a couple of minutes, Molls, just sit with him, be with him."

Molly nodded, and she watched him fighting to stay awake for her.

"Love, it's ok, close your eyes. I'll be here when you open them again. Close your eyes, Let go, Greg, I'll be here tomorrow with the paper and coffee. I'll be quiet, I promise, so you can sleep,"

"Love you -"

He was asleep. Molly could tell his breathing was different, he was under again. "John - oh God. What have I done?" She leaned against him and sobbed.

"You did what he needed; Molly, he needed to ask you, he wouldn't have done it if you didn't allow him to. You are amazing, Molly Hooper, you must love him very much. This is better for him, he will be in less pain while he heals."

John walked over to Sherlock and kissed him awake. "Love, time to go home. Molly is coming with us. The pain was too much for Greg, he asked to be put under, and Molly agreed. She's going to stay with us while he is in coma."

"Of course she is. Molls?"

"Yeah, I'm here."

"You're brilliant, love. He's lucky to have you."

"No, Sherlock, I'm the lucky one."

They gathered their few belongings and walked to the door, Molly paused and asked them to wait for her. She walked back over to Greg's bed, kissed him one last time and whispered, "Ditto."


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to Baker Street...

Mrs. Hudson was waiting for them, when they got home, even though it was two in the morning. "Molly, love, I've got my guest room all set up for you, if that will do."

Molly nodded and hugged the boys goodnight. "Thank you. I'm so sorry for not - I'm just so sorry, Sherlock. No, I am, I should've let you be there for him, for us; you're my family, and I let you down."

Sherlock wrapped her in his arms and whispered. "No. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, love. Please forgive me for being an arse; if you need us tonight, don't hesitate to come upstairs, yeah?"

Molly kissed him and John, and went into Mrs. Hudson's flat. "I'll make her a nice hot toddy if she wants it. You two get some rest now. Scoot."

John took Sherlock's hand in his and they traveled the seventeen steps together at last. They slipped off their shoes and coats and went into their bedroom. They stood in front of each other, for a long moment. John finally broke the silence by whispering, "I need you, love." Sherlock nodded and undressed him, then undressed himself. He took John's face in his hands and kissed him as if he hadn't kissed him for ages. The tears ran down their faces as Sherlock pulled John against him and held on to him. "I love you, John, I love you so much."

"Take me to bed, love, please, I need to feel you around me. I need to sleep in your arms, I need you to take the nightmares away, please, Sherlock. Can you do that?"  
Sherlock lifted John in his arms and carried him to bed.

"I'll try, love." Sherlock laid next to him, they turned so they faced each other. Sherlock kissed John's old scars, the scars that had broken him and saved him. He kissed him until John was sobbing quietly in his arms, he kissed him until he finally fell asleep in his arms. "I'm here, John. I'm here with you." 

 

Sally, Greg asked to be put under last night, he was in too much pain, wanted you to know. They are going to try it for two weeks. - SH

Damn it - thank you for letting me know. I'm sorry - SD

Molly is here, downstairs at Mrs. Hudson's, until he wakes up. My offer to help with his case is still open. - SH

The bastards took me off it, said I was too close. - SD

Shit, I'm sorry, Sally. Truly. If you want to uhm, talk - SH

Yeah, okay - thanks. You should get some sleep - SD

You too. - SH

 

Sherlock turned off his phone, and closed his eyes. 

"Sherlock!! Where are you? Please! No!"

Sherlock didn't move, he simply whispered, "John, I'm here, love. We're home, I'm right here. I'm holding you, can you feel my arms around you, love?"

John opened his eyes and looked around him. "Home, we're home. You're here."

"Right where you left me."

"I'm -"

"No. uh-uh, nope. No apologies, remember?"

"Will you?"

Sherlock nodded. He covered John's body with his own, letting John feel him wanting him, needing him. Slowly, Sherlock moved, so their hips and cocks met, grounding John in the present, he moved and took away the visions that visited him each night. The battle scenes, the Pool, Molly crying as she let Greg fall asleep, Sherlock moved and he remembered Paris, and the girl with the croissants. Sherlock moved and John heard his own dog tags move with him; he was in Venice, on a beautiful bed, as Sherlock made love to him, slowly and sweetly, telling him how much he was needed, loved, and treasured, until they came together, as the rain fell all night.

John rolled them over and buried his face against Sherlock's chest. He had no words for the beautiful man who held him in his strong arms, the man who gave him reasons to go on when he had given up. The man who wore his ring and swore to be with him for the rest of their lives was running his fingers up and down his spine, whispering his love over and over, as he went back to sleep.

 

Sherlock stretched and yawned and found himself alone in bed; he sighed as he heard the rain fall outside, John and Molly chatting quietly in the flat. He picked up his phone, checked his messages and saw that it was noon. 

"Hey there, love." John stood up and walked over to Sherlock, a cup of tea in hand. Molly looked up, she looked like she got a bit of sleep, but the dark circles under her eyes made him flinch.

"I'm -"

"Yeah, I know." Sherlock moved to sit next to her on the couch. She laid down in his lap and he ran his fingers through her hair. "There was a message from our hat ladies, they said they would like you to come try on what they have so far. Around two today?" 

Molly sat up and looked at him. All she wanted was to be back by Greg's side, and let the rest of the world go to hell. But she had promised him, he had made her swear she would be out in the world, getting ready for their wedding, he trusted her to do just that, and she wouldn't let him down.

"Sure, sweetie, I think I can handle that."

Sherlock smiled and nodded. "He'd be proud of you, Moll, he knows how hard this is going to be for you, but he wouldn't have asked you if he didn't think you could do it."

"I went this morning with the paper and my coffee, did the puzzle, read him the scores, drank my coffee. Donovan brought him flowers, then shook her head and laughed when she realised he wouldn't see them before they wilted. She stayed with me and chatted. He...he was so still. So still, Sherlock. I know he's in there, getting better, in less pain, but - "

Sherlock waited for her to finish. "I miss him so much, Sherlock, I miss waking up with his arms around me. I miss his smile; his laugh. He - he is my heart, Sherlock."

"I know he is, sweetie. I know how hard it was for both of you to make that decision last night, but you were strong enough for both of you. I'm so proud of you, Moll." She laid back in his lap and let him hold her as she wept.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...and some comic relief, kinda and a plot shift...yay!

Sherlock pulled the black velvet rope at 2 o'clock precisely. Molly had thought about wearing sunglasses to hide her eyes, but it was January, and it was ridiculous to try to hide her pain, it wasn't going anywhere.

"Mollygirl. Nonono, this is no good. Holy fuck! Char-LOTTE! Tea! Cakes! STAT! Sit, sit, sit. Tell Robby."

With that, Molly lost it completely. She buried her face against Robby's shoulder and cried harder than she had all week. Robby sat down with her on the couch and let her cry it out. Sherlock quietly explained what had happened to Greg, and Robby rocked Molly in her arms until she ran out of tears.

"Sorry." She sniffled, and Robby handed her a handkerchief.

"No. What on earth should you apologise for? Your man is hurt, you have every right to let it out, sweetie. Keeping it in does no one any good."

"TEA! CHAR-lotte, pronto! Our Molly needs her tea. Sherl needs something a bit stronger I suspect, but he'll pass today. Now. Your hat, girl. CHARLOTTE!!! I swear...ah, there, now.

Charlotte brought in the tea trolley, and served it, looking Molly over and nodding. "Hat. Your hat, Molly, is only halfway finished, but I think we called you when you were needing to see it. Be right back, girlfriend. Robby, do up her hair, she needs to see it properly."

"Yes, love." Robby spent half an hour, chatting to them about nothing and everything, making them both laugh somehow, while she wrestled Molly's hair into the soft chignon of their first visit. 

Then Charlotte emerged from the back, carrying a huge bright yellow box, and what was inside it made Molly squeal with delight. Sherlock rolled his eyes, but smiled at her joy. A top hat, in the exact shade of her dress, but in polished satin, bedecked in feathers of amber and deep burgundy; geegaws and doodahs that matched her auburn hair were stacked and still growing, dashes of yellow flowers sprung upwards and spiraled. 

Robby placed it on Molly's head, helped her up and walked her to the full length mirror. "Still needs a bit of razzle-dazzle, but you get the basic idea, love." Molly looked at herself in the mirror and stopped smiling.

"Lovey?" Robby didn't let go of her, just waited.

"I wish he could see it, Sherlock. He would -"

"Molly, love, he will see it. Not until July. Right? July, love. He will be standing, waiting for you, and he will absolutely lose his mind when he sees you. He will be absolutely gobsmacked and John will have to make sure he doesn't fall over. He won't be able to hold back when I walk you to him, he will have to kiss you before anything else happens. So, ladies, make sure that hat stays on her head."

"Obviously." Robby peered down at Sherlock through her glasses. "You will wear your hat to walk her down the aisle, yes?" 

Sherlock nodded. "Naturally."

"Your John, he needs one, and Molly's Greg?"

"Uhmm-hmmm..."

"Good. Yes. Bring your John, we do know what he is like, naturally, but we need to see him. Soon? Yes? And when her Greg is well?"

Sherlock nodded. "Yes, Robby, yes, love. Soon. I promise."

"All right then."

Molly excused herself and Robby quietly asked Sherlock. "They got the bastard who did it, didn't they?"

Sherlock shook his head. "It appears to be random. Just a fuzzy image on CCTV."

"You need to get him. You need to get that bastard off the street, and you know it."

"Are you hiring me?" He smiled fondly at her.

"Yes, if I have to, yes, damnit. You need to get him, love."

"I'll take it on, Robby, you just keep her smiling, yeah?" He gave her a kiss on each cheek. He was still smiling as he helped Molly put her coat back on. She looked at him and narrowed her eyes.

"What? What have you done?"

"Robby just hired me."

"To do what, exactly?"

"Uhm...to catch the arsehole who shot Greg."

He watched her face go through every emotion he'd ever seen on her face until her eyes danced up at him.

"What can I do to help?"


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> good Mycroft or....???

"Are you out of your fucking mind?!" John bellowed in his best Captain Watson bellow. "There are so many things wrong with this idea, Sherlock. I can't even believe you are contemplating this!"

"I am more than fucking contemplating this, John! They are sitting on their arses, while he is in a fucking coma, they took Donovan off the case, no one is doing anything, far as I can tell, there hasn't even been anything in the paper about it! The shooting of a highly-decorated and beloved DI gets no press at all?!" Sherlock was at his snarkiest, in full 'everyone is an idiot' mode, even the man he loved more than anything didn't escape his glower when he was angry.

"I can get the Homeless Network working on it, I'll ask Mycroft if there are any other cameras that the Met knows nothing about. I can't believe there are no witnesses. I'm going to do this whether you help me or not."

John glared at him and at Molly who stood beside Sherlock, in full agreement with her best friend.

"John - please?" 

"Molly - what would Greg say? He would hit the roof if he knew you were even thinking of getting involved in this."

"He's not here, John. He's not here, because some arsehole shot him. He's not even able to try to talk me out of it because you helped him decide to go to sleep -" She put her hand to her mouth. "Oh, John. I - I'm so sorry -" She ran from the room, down the stairs, and out into the rain.

"Lovely."

"Fuck."

Molly got a cab after a minute of getting soaked, and told the driver to take her to Barts. 

She ran from the cab into the hospital, and into Greg's room. She stopped cold. The room was empty. The bed was stripped and the orderly looked at her like he had never seen her before.

"Where - is -?"

"Don't know, was just told to clean the room, Miss."

She ran to the front desk. "Where is DI Lestrade? I am his fiance and I demand to know where he is."

"Ah. Ms. Hooper."

"Mycroft. What the fuck?! Where is he, where is Greg?"

"He is safe."

"I want to see him. Now. I am in charge of all medical decisions for him. I should have been notified of any change of room."

"He is no longer in this facility, Ms. Hooper. If you will come with me, I will take you to him."


	26. Chapter 26

"Excellent decision, Ms. Hooper. I'd hate for anything to happen to you."

Molly glared at him from the seat next to him in the black sedan. 

"Tell me. Right now. What the hell is going on? Now."

Mycroft rolled his eyes. "So impatient."

"I know things, 'Myc'. Don't forget. Could make your life, interesting? More interesting than a man in your position would be comfortable with."

Mycroft narrowed his eyes and took in her posture and dark mood. "Very well."

"You remember DI Lestrade was demoted after Sherlock 'died?' "

"Yes." She mumbled quietly.

He was demoted by certain people in 'high places' who knew he was getting too close to figuring out there were systematic 'bad practices' going on. It would have ended their control of the police force, the courts and many powerful people within the government.

"What?" Molly's jaw dropped.

"At about the same time that my brother 'died' with your help, DI Lestrade showed me the evidence he was collecting, he had been working on it for years. The only person he trusted was Donovan, and that was because he had trained her from her first days. He knew she was straight, one of the few good cops. Eventually, they both had worked back up to their previous positions, and were days from writing up a report that would have 'cleaned house.'

"The paperwork Donovan spoke of?"

"Gone. Destroyed. Computers taken, not just erased. Taken."

"Oh God. So they were actually trying to kill Donovan?"

"It didn't matter who they killed, they believed if either one was severely injured or killed, it would effectively silence the other."

"So, you took Greg to a safe house?"

"As long as someone was with him, you or Donovan, or later, Sherlock and John, he was relatively safe. But when he decided to be put into a coma, and no one was there as often, it would have been far too easy for someone to drug him. When someone finally noticed, it would be too late, and no one would think it too suspicious. So, I made an executive decision. I do apologise for the - "

"Dramatics? Yeah, you two were always a bit 'dramatic.' "

Mycroft cleared his throat. "Ms. Hooper, I am being far more forthcoming -"

"No worries, Myc, my lips are sealed. I am going to text your brother, so he will not worry."

"Oh, no need, Ms. Hooper, Sherlock and John will be waiting for you at our destination."

"Myc...."

"I do enjoy a bit of drama now and then, desk work can get a bit...tedious."

"Thank you."

"Quite welcome, Ms. Hooper."


	27. Chapter 27

"He's going to be fine."

"I'm nervous, Sally."

Donovan grabbed Molly's hand. "Sweetie, he has you to come back for. He will wake up, and he will be fine. He will have a lot of healing to do still, but he will be fine. He has to be."

"Okay. I'm ready."

"Let's go, then."

They walked into Greg's room, where the doctor and nurses were waiting with Sherlock and John. 

"Ms. Hooper, we will now start the drug that will bring him out of the coma, he may be groggy at first, and he will not know where he is so he may be confused. If he sees your face first, it will be easier for him to adjust."

"Got it."

Molly sat next to Greg and took his hand. She had gotten to know this hand so well, day after day, she studied it, had made up stories about the scars that wrapped around his fingers, and covered his palm. She had told him story after story of her life with Sherlock, all of their crazy adventures and dreams and...

"Molly?" His voice was soft, but it was his.

"Greg?" She was afraid to look into his eyes, the beautiful eyes that had been closed for the last two weeks. 

"Molly, please look at me?" He pleaded with her.

She lifted her face to look into his brilliant blue eyes and found him smiling at her. "Oh. I - "

"Molly Hooper, may I please kiss you?"

She nodded, and gently touched his face as she bent over him. He gently pressed his lips against hers and they both sighed as Molly pulled away to look at him. He had lost weight, he needed a shave, a haircut and a bath, but it was him.

"I love you, so much, Greg. I missed you so much, you have no idea."

"I do, love. I heard you. I know how hard it was for you to do this for me. I love you, Molly Hooper." She looked at Sherlock, John and Donovan who had been by her side these last two weeks and realised how lucky she was.

She winked at Sherlock, he nodded and led everyone else out of the room and closed the door behind them.

"I don't know - " she began shyly.

"Shhh, it's okay, love. We can just sit here together, and I'll tell you how beautiful you are, and I'll kiss your hand, then tell you how lovely your eyes are..." She brought his hand to her lips and kissed it softly.

"Molly."

"Say that again, please?"

"Molly."

She kissed him again.

"Molly."

They smiled against each other's lips and laughed, then Molly cried. Greg kissed her tears away, and she held his hand as they fell asleep together.


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life gets back to normal...quiet/sexy times for our favourite couples...

Suddenly, it was May, and spring had indeed sprung. Greg had finally finished rehab, and was meeting John at their local again; Sherlock and Molly were working out the seating arrangements for the reception, trying to decide where Mycroft would do the least damage, and the hat ladies were very busy. 

Lestrade and Donovan were both offered promotions after all the bad actors were removed, but they declined. They were not pencil pushers or administrators, they wanted to work cases, and they were never busier. Which meant of course, between suit and hat fittings and swans, Sherlock and John were running themselves into the ground again. Case after case, until Sherlock turned off his phone one morning.

John closed the door after a long, boring shift, allergies were in full bloom and he was ready for take away and crap telly. Hmmm... he leaned against the door and took a deep breath in...but they were out of peas and rice and wine.

Mrs. Hudson popped her head out of her flat. "He went out to the shops this morning."

"He did what?" John almost fell down. 

"Turned off his phone too - Greg came round this afternoon, and Sherlock politely declined a 'ridiculous excuse of a case, doesn't even rate a 2,' and told him to 'go to the morgue and bug Molly.' I believe that was the clean version."

"Yeah, we haven't had a night off recently. Uhm..."

"Don't worry, love, I'll just turn up my stories. You boys enjoy yourselves."

John grinned and quietly made his way upstairs. The flat door was open and Sherlock was standing at the stove, quietly stirring the rice; John watched him for a moment, then took off his coat and shoes.

"Mind getting the peas out? I think they are next to those wedding cake samples that we never finished, probably should bin them soon."

"Yeah, sure, here." John handed Sherlock the peas and watched him stir them in. Sherlock placed the lid on the pot, turned down the heat and pulled John out of the kitchen. "Don't want to risk an A & E trip tonight."

"Uh-uh." John looked up into Sherlock's smiling eyes, and whispered, "couch?"

Sherlock nodded. John led him to the couch, and laid down. He closed his eyes as he felt Sherlock settle and rest against him. "I've missed you, mind if we just lie here for a bit?"

"I've missed you too, love." John laid his fingers in Sherlock's curls, and felt him shudder and moan. Neither of them wanted to move, but Sherlock's stomach growled after a few minutes, and he raised his head to grin at John.

"Dinner?"

"Starving. Stay, I'll get it." John went into the kitchen and dished up a huge bowl of risotto. He brought it to his face, breathed it in and was transported back to a night a few years back...

"Love?"

"Yeah - hold on."

 

Molly opened the door to their flat and toed off her shoes, another long day, up to her elbows in a triple murder and a multi-car crash. She wanted a glass of wine, a long shower and...

The room was full of roses, candles were lit and music was coming from the kitchen, the Beatles. She smiled and walked to the doorway. Her heart leaped as she watched Greg stir a marinara, his specialty; he held a glass of wine in his other hand and was singing.

"...Would you still need me?  
Will you still feed me when I'm sixty-four?"

"Yes, I would, I will," she whispered. "I promise."

He looked up at her, and smiled. She was never going to take moments like these for granted again; she watched as he turned off the sauce, put down his glass and walked over to her. She felt the day fall away as he touched her face, gazed down into her eyes and kissed her softly.

"What's the occasion?"

"Do I need one?"

"No. Do we have time for a shower?"

"Uhm-hmm."

She carefully unbuttoned his shirt, leaving a trail of kisses as she went, then undid his cuffs and helped him take it off. Then she knelt in front of him and looked up, he nodded and touched her hair, as she helped him out of his trousers and pants. She straightened up and removed her blouse slowly, then stepped out of her panties and slacks, and kissed him soundly.

"Molly -"

"Will you join me, love?"

"Yes. God - yes."

She kissed him all the way to the shower, feeling him smile beneath her lips made her stop and laugh; his eyes twinkled, the twinkle in his eyes was definitely back. There were days when he still woke up in pain, though he tried to hide it from her, but the tightness in his eyes had lifted, finally. She turned the water on and helped him into the tub. They stood in front of each other simply looking, taking the other in, she ran her eyes over the still red rawness of the scar, and her breath caught. He touched her face and shook his head, "I'm fine." She blinked. "I know. I know that, I just - touch me, love, please?"

He didn't have to be asked twice. He kissed her face, her neck, then gently touched her breasts; she moved closer into him and ran her hands over his chest, his abdomen, through his dark curls, then stroked him, until she felt him shiver. 

"Molly, please?"

She knelt in front of him and took him in to her mouth, licking and sucking, as his hands held on to her head. He whispered her name, giving her warning as he came with a shout. She held him in her arms as he slowly went to his knees.

"I love you, Greg Lestrade. I cannot, will not imagine my life without you in it."

He opened his eyes and smiled at her. "As you must know by now, I'm a tough bugger to get rid of. No worries, love." She laughed and kissed him until the water ran cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I'm 64  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fCn-8xMv8CU


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> stag night, a week before the wedding...
> 
> or what happens when John takes Greg to a gay bar after raising a few with the boys at the local...
> 
> naturally, we begin with a different trio in the jail cell the following morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a straight ally, I have been trying to process the events on Sunday; I have no answers. As a mother of four children, I try to hope and work for peace; there are days when that hope is sorely tested. I hope those readers in other countries, as well as in my own will take time to think of the lives lost on Sunday in Orlando, Florida. Send a prayer, or a thought, light a candle, write a story, perform a random act of kindness, whatever. I spent most of Sunday writing the last few chapters, and I write for those who no longer can.

"Wakey-wakey!" Donovan smiles not unkindly at Greg who is leaning against the wall of the cell, sporting a remarkable shiner.

"Oh my God. Molly is gonna - "

"Kill you? A real POSSIBILITY!" Donovan yells at him.

John jumps up from the bench. "Fuck!"

"Can you whisper?" pleads Lestrade.

"NOT REALLY! C'mon, you morons, I got you a cab. Greg, you just used up all your 'Get Out of Jail Free' cards, don't know about Molly, though. Love the photo, John..."

"What?"

"Page one."

"Fuck."

"Free publicity never hurts, I suppose."

 

"I'm sorry."

"No, I shouldn't have hit you back. I think I should've stopped two whiskies before. I deserved it."

"No, you didn't. I am so fucked."

"Yeah, mate. Sorry."

"Ready?"

"Not really, but we don't have much of a choice."

 

"All hail the conquering heroes." Sherlock snarked from behind the paper.

"Good morning, love?" Greg dared to kiss Molly's offered cheek.

John looked at the table and glared at Mrs. Hudson before he bolted for the toilet.

"Really? A Full..." They all looked up from the table to watch Greg's face turn a violent shade of green.

"My loo is available, dear, door is open." Mrs. Hudson smiled sweetly at him.

 

Eight hours earlier:

Greg sat down hard across from John at their table with a pair of whiskies. Doubles. He handed one over, looked around the bar and narrowed his eyes at John.

"There are no ladies here."

"Nope."

"You brought me to a gay bar."

"YuP."

"On MY stag night."

"Uh-huh."

"I didn't really have one, thought it only fair."

Greg put down his glass and stood up. He motioned for John to stand up. John looked at his drink, half-finished, looked at Greg, finished his drink, and shrugged. He stood, and was promptly knocked back down in his seat by a strong left jab to the nose.

John blinked, then nodded. "Ah. Yes. This is about the 'You bastard' comment."

"YuP."

"Cap'n? This guy botherin' you?" One of the regulars, who also happened to be a former member of John's regiment, towered over Greg.

"Naw, Bill, this is a good friend of mine, he's just settling an old score. Nothin' I can't handle."

"Right. You sure? I'm happy to take him outside if he's buggin' you..."

"Nope. Got it. Thanks, though."

John picked up Greg's drink and drained it, popped Greg in the eye....then all hell broke loose.

 

John managed to drag Greg out of the bar before either of them got hit by either flying fists or chairs, but stumbled past Donovan, who was driving into work after attending Molly's rather tame bachelorette party thrown by Robby and Charlotte.

"Sir? John? Shit - here comes the yellow press - get in!" But it was too late.

 

DI and the Blogger....what will Sherlock do? Is the honeymoon over? 

 

There was no article in the paper, just a shot of them getting into Donovan's sedan with a special focus on John's nose; a lot of fuzzy shots from the interior security cameras, and the resulting melee; but clearly, Greg hit John first, then after a moment, John clearly punched Greg. Donovan promptly delivered them to the station, where they had free room and board at the pleasure of Her Majesty for the next eight hours.


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> flufffff.

Sherlock stood at the window of their hotel room; John was still sound asleep. Everything was ready. Months of planning, all came down to a few moments in a few hours. The sun was rising-

"Hey." Molly wrapped arms around him and he took a deep breath. "Is there tea?"

"Mhmmm, whole pot on the table."

"Look at me."

Sherlock sighed, turned in her arms and glanced down at her face. She was quietly glowing. He had known her most of their lives and he had never seen her as she was today.

'We did it, Molls," he whispered as he hugged her. "We made it, love."

She nodded and leaned against him. Nothing else needed to be said, they stood together and breathed in the new day.

 

"I hate ties," moaned Greg, struggling with his burgundy bow tie.

"So don't wear it," shrugged John, who was dutifully tying his. "She won't care."

"It's only for a couple hours, yeah?"

"Uhm-hmmm."

 

"I look..."

"...amazing, Sally." Molly grinned at her; she was wearing a simple cotton maxi dress in a colour that Sherlock had told her was called 'Byzantium,' and a hat that made her honestly giggle, it reminded her of a flying saucer, but it was covered in flowers to reflect the colours of Molly's top hat. Donovan sighed as she knew she would never live it down, but she waited patiently as Charlotte stuck pin after pin in her hair to keep the thing from becoming an actual UFO. The calm day had become gusty just in time for the wedding party to make their way down the aisle. She figured if Greg could handle wearing a morning suit on a day as hot as this one, she could hoist the hat. 

 

"Ready?"

"Yeah."

They looked at one another and couldn't think of a single word to say. Sherlock nodded, kissed her on the forehead and offered Molly his arm as the recording of one of his own compositions accompanied them on their determined walk on the petal strewn grass. 

Greg turned as the music began - his heart danced, his eyes sang...or something in that vein. John smiled as he watched his friend bounce on his toes, like a boy given his first football. John was not immune to the vision that somehow seemed to float towards them; his husband sparkled, that was the only suitable word that came to mind at that moment in time. He couldn't wait to -

"Dearly beloved, we have gathered here today to celebrate the union of two very special, unique and well-loved people - Gregory Lestrade and Molly Hooper...."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://manyinterestingfacts.files.wordpress.com/2014/08/purple-shades.jpg
> 
> (more purple words, for those bored of lilac and aubergine, 'Byzantium' is the second shade)


End file.
